


Born to Dance

by candygramme, spoonlessone (mistress_mary)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistress_mary/pseuds/spoonlessone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once there were two young men. One was from a wealthy family, while the other had to struggle to survive. One lived in isolation and didn't know the first thing about finding friends, while the other fought to keep himself and his family alive. Both were incredibly talented. Both were born to dance, but only one of them could win the title and break free from their confining lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born to Dance

“Oh, God, do they let just anyone audition these days?” The tall, slender teen who spoke was pitching his comment to be overheard by the young man a couple of spots in front of him, and it was obvious his comments had been registered. The other didn’t acknowledge the speaker verbally; he merely did a complicated twist and spin, grabbed his crotch in a pointed way and then turned back to wait, laughing with his friends and apparently completely unruffled. Jared sighed. The guy was a thorn in his side. They'd come up against each other earlier in the year in one of the local competitions, and Jared had been furious that the other had walked off with the grand prize. Admittedly, Jared didn't need the money, but that wasn't the point, was it?

They’d been waiting for hours under the Texan sun, and people were starting to droop, wondering when they would ever get to go inside and perform. Several kids had given up and left, but there were still hundreds waiting for their chance to show what they could do. Austin in June was oppressively hot, and it was already noon. Some of the hopefuls had been there since the night before.

The young man who had spoken fumbled in his sports bag and pulled out a bottle of water, taking a sip from it before offering the bottle to his companion, an older man, who waved it away. “No thanks, Jared, and you shouldn’t drink much of it either. I know it’s hot, but too much at once will make you heavy on your feet, and you don’t want that, today of all days.”

The kid, Jared, nodded and tucked it back in the bag. “Won’t be good for much if I have heat stroke though, Jeff,” he grumbled.

It was fortunate that at that moment a cheer went up from the huge crowd gathered around the lineup, and they all slowly started to move. As Jared watched, the ragamuffin kid he’d commented on a few minutes earlier gave a whoop and did a couple of somersaults as he headed along the sidewalk towards the theater and the welcoming shade.

“Showoff,” Jared muttered. “It takes technique as well as tricks to get onto a show like ‘Born To Dance.’”

Once inside, the dancers who were going to audition handed over their paperwork, received their numbers and were led to a waiting area. Jared’s companion wished him the best of luck and took his leave to go sit in the auditorium, and, for the first time, Jared felt the beginnings of jitters in his belly. In the row to his left, the kid he’d been needling was hugging a youngster in her teens. “Okay, short-stuff, go sit in the theater and wait for the best performance ever. It won’t be long now.”

“I am not short,” she grumbled. Then she flung her arms around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek, hauling herself up onto her tiptoes to reach, while he made gagging noises and muttered about girlspit being poisonous. “You don’t deserve me to wish you good luck,” she said, adding, “And anyway, Mom said I was to tell you to break a leg and she wished she was able to come, so break a leg, bro, but not really, okay?”

Laughing, he watched her saunter away and then settled back into his seat, limbs loosely draped, looking supremely relaxed. Jared wasn’t sure why, but Scruffy’s very presence irritated him. He looked so at ease, while Jared was feeling utterly queasy with nerves. Not only that, but he was dressed in rags, his tee had the arms ripped off it, and his jeans were so threadbare he could glimpse skin, while the grubby cap he wore announced that he was a Mavericks supporter. That in itself made Jared want to rip it from him and stomp it. Everyone knew that the Spurs could beat the Mavs with their laces tied together.

The scruffy young man suddenly turned his gaze on Jared and caught him staring. He could only drop his scrutiny and pretend that he wasn’t really there. Absently picking at an imagined spot on his pristine designer jeans, Jared tried to look as if he hadn’t been checking him out.

One by one, the hopeful dancers were called in to strut their stuff in front of the judges. It was amazing how rapid the turnover was. Each of the dancers went in — and then emerged just a couple of minutes later, either dejected or elated, depending on how good their performance had been. It seemed that there were only a handful that had received their golden ticket to go to Los Angeles for the weeding out process, and already his row was beginning to move forward, one by one filing into the auditorium to be judged. Jared fumbled for his music, found the disk and clutched it tightly in one sweaty fist, nerves at full stretch now as the scruffy kid with the Mavs cap moved forward in front of him, ready for his fifteen seconds of fame.

Jared was almost at the doors to the stage area when he heard the familiar whoop and Scruffy came rushing out waving his ticket. “Yes!” He punched the air, and a couple of other guys set up a cheer as they crowded in to high-five him and ruffle his hair. Their attentions ended up dislodging the offending ball cap and causing Scruffy to protest, while Jared huffed impatiently and curled his lip. As far as he was concerned, it would be a distinct improvement if they took it away and burned it.

As the little group walked away, he could see the girl who’d waited with Scruffy come running up to screech and hurl herself at him, almost knocking him back down onto his ass. “You did it! You did it! You’re gonna be so famous. I filmed it all on my phone, so Mom can see it when we get home.”

“Jeez, take it easy, Mack. You’re not a lightweight anymore, in fact I bet that’s why Mom and Dad called you Mack. You’re like one of those damned trucks, and you came pretty close to taking out my family jewels with your left knee.”

“Are you trying to tell me you think I’m fat?” The girl, fairly obviously by now Scruffy’s sister, reared up to her full height, bristling at him. 

“Nope! Not at all, no way.” Scruffy was laughing as he backed down the hallway, just out of reach of her jabbing finger. “Just that you’re built like a Mack truck, that’s all.”

Still straining his ears to learn what Scruffy’s name was, Jared almost followed them, but, just then, he was called in to do his presentation and saw no more of them.

As he made his way down the corridor to the backstage area, one of the PAs took his music and whispered ‘good luck,’ then Jared was ushered to the wings where he watched the final moments of a young woman’s performance. She was doing a Latin American dance, and to Jared, she looked as though she was holding her torso too stiffly. He nodded wisely as he heard the judges commenting on that and giving her advice about letting herself relax. He hadn’t had much experience with ballroom, but he knew what it should look like. The girl left the stage, looking dazed but not too terribly unhappy. They’d told her to keep working and come back next year, so he guessed she would keep trying. 

“Next?”

Taking a deep breath, Jared walked out onto the stage. His hands were sweaty, his belly was doing flips, and he could feel his knees tremble, but he devoutly hoped that the judges out there beyond the lights that prevented him from seeing the audience wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Tell us about yourself.” Bright lights meant that Jared couldn't see the speaker, although he'd been watching the show for years and knew instantly who the voice belonged to.

“Uh...” Jared wished he’d at least had one more sip of water. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed a couple of times before he managed to respond. “I… I’m Jared Padalecki, and I’m a ballet major, but I love all forms of dance.”

“How long have you been dancing?”

He knew that the answers to these questions were on the form he’d filled out when he’d received his registration number, so it was obvious that the judges had been primed, but by now he was starting to feel a teeny bit more at ease. He thanked them mentally for not making him jump straight into his routine and guessed that they knew how nervous all the candidates would be.

“All my life, I think. I really can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to dance.”

“What are you going to dance for us today?”

“I... I thought I would like to show you my attempt at the Dying Swan. I’m a huge fan of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, but this is more from the original choreography.” He knew he was babbling and closed his mouth with a snap, hoping he hadn’t annoyed them too much with what suddenly seemed to be way too much like a lecture.

“Sounds great.” The voice didn’t sound annoyed, so there was that. “And cue music!”

Jared nodded, took a deep breath and sank down into his starting position. As the music he’d brought began to play, all nerves, all fear left him. He became the Swan, his body portraying the death of the creature that had loved and then been betrayed.

“Thank you.”

The music stopped abruptly, and Jared shook himself out of the zone, slowly remembering where he was, and moving forward to the edge of the stage to face judgment.

“I don’t think we need to see any more. What do you others think?”

“Come and get your ticket.” A woman’s voice this time. “That was utterly beautiful.”

Jared nodded, smiled and tried to say thank you, but at first nothing would come, so he pressed his palms together and bowed. Finally, he just left the stage and came down the steps to the side. He could see the judges now, all of them smiling at him reassuringly, and he finally found his voice. “Thank you so much,” he murmured as he took his plane ticket from the woman who was holding it out to him. “It’s been my dream for the longest time.”

There were brief, encouraging words, and then as the next candidate stepped onto the stage, Jared went back behind the stage to gather up his belongings and leave. As he was leaving the theater to drive back to Dallas and his room at the Morgan School of Dance, he reviewed the day. He’d done it. He was going to be a contestant on ‘Born to Dance,’ and what’s more, he was going to win it. The only fly in the ointment as far as he could see was the scruffy Mavericks supporter, and he’d have to be on his best game to beat him. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had gone up against each other, but this time it wasn't for some local dance contest. This was a national TV show, and Jared knew that this time he was going to win.

Jensen’s elation at making the cut for ‘Born to Dance’ faded swiftly in the face of everyday life. The show might be his (and his family’s) salvation, but callbacks wouldn’t be for another six weeks. In the meantime, he had to make his prize money from the last dance battle cover food for all of them, and his mom’s meds, until he could find a way to bring in more cash. Mackenzie helped as much as she could, but Jensen would be damned if he’d let her sacrifice her future. She did bring in money by tutoring other kids and somehow or other almost always managed to bring food home from the lessons. They just had to hold on for six weeks, until his stipend from the show started. 

It was dark and the streets were deserted when Jensen went to work in the mornings. He never had been a morning person, but he did what he had to do. Fresh baked bread required someone to bake it, and although Jensen was pleased Mr. Beaver trusted him to do it, he wished it didn’t have to be at 4:30 in the morning. He was still half asleep and gulping down coffee as he combined the flour and water and set it aside to autolyse while he checked the board. The only special orders were a couple of cakes and a couple of dozen cupcakes, so he quickly mixed up the batters and got them in the oven before turning back to his bread dough.

The cakes were cooling, and a fresh pot of coffee was brewing by the time Mr. Beaver got in. Jensen covered the last batch of dough and set it aside to rise before joining Mr. Beaver at the small table in the corner. They chatted about the day to come as Mr. Beaver drank his coffee and Jensen tucked into the divine-smelling omelet Mrs. Beaver had sent for his breakfast. 

“You have a birthday cake, a retirement cake and 2 dozen cupcakes for a kid’s birthday,” Jensen gestured with his fork to the cooling cakes. 

“Thanks,” Mr. Beaver moaned in appreciation as he took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know why it never tastes this good when I make it.”

Jensen shrugged off the praise and turned his attention back to his omelet. Mr. Beaver, as usual, ignored his silence and drank his coffee. Jensen enjoyed this time of day, still early and quiet without leaving him in his head too much the way the early mornings could. He finished off the omelet and checked on his dough, folding it a few times to encourage the gluten to develop. By the time he had the loaves in the fridge for their final proof, Mr. Beaver was slicing the tops off of the cakes to make nice even layers. 

“The missus made those lemon bars your mom likes so much,” Mr. Beaver said as Jensen grabbed his jacket. “She packed some up for you to take. Don’t forget them.”

“Thank her for me, okay?” Jensen was grateful to the Beavers. He’d worked in the bakery for years, but since the accident, the older couple had really taken him under their wing. They’d even gotten his mom into a trial program that combined physical, speech and occupational therapies with experimental medication that really seemed to be helping. Her speech was noticeably better already and it had only been a few months. After over two years with little change, her progress was exciting. 

Jensen carefully stashed the packet of pastry in his knapsack and headed home. The bell jingled as he made his way out into the street. It was still early, with the sun not yet peeking over the horizon, and he found his eyes drifting to the dance studio across the street, wondering if anyone would be training yet. It wasn’t the first time he’d envied the students who got to study there, and definitely not the first time he’d involuntarily paused to watch the ballet boy dance. He'd seen him at the 'Dallas Dance' contest on the previous Labor Day weekend, and wanted so badly to go and speak to him, but the malevolent glare he'd received had made him think better of that idea and make himself scarce. Still, Jensen loved to watch him, and not just because he was the hottest guy Jensen had ever seen — an impression that had only increased after he’d actually interacted with him at the audition the week before, even if it had all been negative— but because his dancing was just beautiful. As much as he might make fun of the stage dancers, he couldn’t deny the sheer elegance and seemingly effortless grace and artistry. Especially when it was the boy he’d come to think of as Nureyev — thank his mom for that one— performing. He shook himself out of his reverie and continued on his way. He didn’t have time to dawdle or his mom would be late for therapy. 

After a quick status meeting with his mom’s care coordinator, he left her to it. One of the occupational therapy technicians would bring her home and get her settled. It wasn’t really the tech’s job, but he and the whole care team helped out however they could. 

He determinedly ignored the dance studio on his way back to the bakery. He needed to focus on his goals, not moon over some boy who probably didn’t know his name. Not that he knew the boy’s name either, but that wasn’t the point. When he got back, his bread needed a few more minutes, so he washed up the dishes and put the cupcakes and the cake Mr. Beaver had finished in the display case. Then he popped the bread into the preheated oven and restocked the front. Mr. Beaver had handled the few morning customers while Jensen was gone, but now that he was back, he made sure to handle everything, so that Mr. Beaver could focus on decorating the last cake. The bell dinged to admit a few regulars, who came in just as the bread was coming out of the oven. Jensen was pleased to see that this batch was evidently just as good as they’d come to expect. The day continued in this fashion, with lunch coming and going and then the schoolgirl Mr. Beaver had hired to work the counter helped with the mid-afternoon rush. 

The rhythm was familiar to Jensen, and he found his mind wandering again, remembering how Jared was dancing near the window of the dance school. He was lost in thought, imagining what it might be like with music when Mr. Beaver interrupted him to ask if he’d take the bank deposit. Jensen checked his watch and realized his shift was supposed to be over twenty minutes ago, and sure enough, the line at the counter was completely gone. As he was cleaning up, Mr. Beaver pointed out a big smudge of flour that he’d obviously missed before he took his mom to therapy. Jensen grinned sheepishly and washed it off, dusting his hair out as well for good measure.

“Make sure you get pretty for that boy of yours,” Mr. Beaver teased. He’d noticed the way Jensen’s eyes were so often drawn to the studio across the street.

Jensen protested softly, “He’s not my boy.” And probably doesn’t even know I exist, he continued silently.

“Jensen’s always pretty,” Amber, the counter help, teased. 

Jensen blushed and ducked his head, grabbing the bank deposit and his boom box before heading toward the mall in lieu of an answer. Hopefully he’d have a good night and a hat full of tips to pad his contingency fund with. 

The alarm shrilled, heart-stopping pitch designed to awaken the dead. It certainly woke Jared, bringing him upright and out of the dream where he was... As usual, it had slipped away from him in that couple of seconds between sleep and consciousness. It had been nice, but it had already faded, leaving Jared muzzy and confused, cursing the dawn.

Grumbling, he stumbled from his room to the bathroom, where he took care of getting himself ready for the day. Fumbling himself into his practice clothes, he crept to the kitchen, hoping he was early enough that he could snag a piece of toast and a coffee before Jeff found him and dragged him off to the studio.

It was not to be. He was reaching for the coffee pot when the hand fell on his shoulder, and he found Jeff glowering at him.

“That will dehydrate you,” growled his mentor. “What are the first two symptoms of dehydration?”

Jared sighed. “Fatigue and loss of balance,” he replied, giving in and turning away to fill a cup with water. 

“That’s right, and don’t you forget it.” Jeff pointed to the table where a dish of oatmeal and a plate of tuna was set out ready for him. “Just because you’re getting to have your fifteen minutes of fame doesn’t mean that you can screw up your training. If you want to be a dancer, you’re going to need to learn responsibility. You’ve only got one body, and I’m trying to make it into a dancer.”

The glass of milk beside the plate was soymilk, of course it was, and Jared hated the stuff almost as much as he despised tuna.

“If I have to eat protein in this quantity at breakfast, can’t I at least have a steak?” He knew the answer to that even though he was whining. It felt like he’d given up everything that was even slightly enjoyable when he’d moved to Dallas to really accelerate his training.

“Steak isn’t as easy to digest. You know that, Mr. Wannabe TV Star.” Jeff’s growl was no more than he’d expected. 

Jared knew that Jeff hadn’t wanted him to enter ‘Born to Dance’ and that he was still angry that Jared had done so, even now, a couple of weeks later. He thought Jeff had secretly been hoping he’d fail, and that he was now driving Jared hard to punish him. He didn’t care. He was going to go on that show, and he was going to win it. Once he won, it would show everyone that he was someone worth knowing. Maybe his parents would come and see him dance. Maybe they would praise him. He’d like that.

He was hungry, and it didn’t take long before his tasteless meal was a memory. Refilling his water bottle, he went off to stretch and get ready for the practice session that would take up most of his morning.

Stretches over, he frowned at his ankle. It didn’t matter what he did, the Achilles tendon on his right leg was sore, and he knew that he had to get it treated right away, or he would end up being sidelined, just when he was finally making progress in his life. 

Poking his head into Jeff’s office, he asked for someone to check it out and then sat, stoic and fatalistic, as he received an antiinflammatory shot into the tendon. “Go spend a half hour in the sauna before practice, and afterwards we’ll ice it, okay?” Jeff was gruff as he spoke, but Jared knew that it was business as usual. Dancers were always flirting with the edge of pain. No dancer of any real talent was ever injury free. That was written in the dancer’s handbook as Rule 2 of the dance, with Rule 1 being to take it, suck it up and not make a fuss about it.

A spell in the sauna was not a hardship. Jared relaxed onto one of the benches, nodded hi to Damien, one of the junior class members, another resident at the school who was the sauna’s only other occupant, then closed his eyes and let himself sink into a reverie. He was always prone to sweating, and it wasn’t long before he was bathed in sweat, thirsty and ready to leave the fierce heat, wistfully thinking how nice it would be to go plunge into the pool that was alongside the sauna. That would have to wait until after practice, because his muscles were loose now and ready. The pool would destroy all the hard work he’d put into his stretches, so he contented himself with running his head and neck under the cold tap in the bathroom, and then headed up the stairs to the studio.

Exercises came first — practiced over and over until he could do them in his sleep. Today, Jeff was finding fault with everything he did, tapping his calf with his cane when he wasn’t satisfied with an arabesque, whacking his butt and yelling for him to keep it in during a plié and generally goading Jared to repeat the set over and over.

Jared sank into his zone and let the steps take him where they would, body lean and graceful, every line perfect from head to toe, until at last Jeff pronounced himself satisfied and permitted him to work on his routine for the show, complaining that he supposed if Jared was going to be a star, he’d damned well better do credit to his teaching.

The litany of complaint faded into the background as Jared saw the kid he’d decided was his rival emerge from the bakery across the street and make his way along the sidewalk towards some unknown destination, his head down and shoulders hunched in a way that would have had Jeff using that cane of his in earnest. Jared knew that the workday hadn’t ended, and idly wondered where he was going. Wherever it was, he still had that regrettable Mavericks cap on, and Jared would forever judge him for that.

Sometime later, Jared was in the process of winding down, gentle stretches and a jug of chocolate milk in his hand, he saw the kid return, jaunty now, no slouch in his step, and that was interesting in and of itself. Jeff noticed him watching and smirked. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen that kid dance. Sloppy footwork. Thinks he can disguise lack of technique with tricks, but I see it, and he’d never pass muster in my school.”

Nodding, Jared headed back down the stairs for his lunch, praying that it wasn’t tuna again.

As it happened, lunch was pasta, and quite delicious. He was just clearing his plate for the second time when his phone rang. It turned out to be his father calling to tell him not to forget about his mother’s birthday later in the week. Once he’d delivered the order, he rang off without letting Jared speak, and Jared was suddenly back to reality. Sighing, he shoved his chair back, took his empty dishes to the sink and headed off to get his tendon iced. 

It was towards the end of his afternoon practice when he saw the kid, who he’d decided to call Maverick, head out for the afternoon, this time in the direction of the mall that was at the end of the street. That reminded him that he had to buy something for his mother, although he had no idea what. As far as he knew, she had everything she could ever want in triplicate with gold leaf on it. He’d find something — he always did — but the idea seemed foolish to him. 

A smack on the back of the head with the cane told him that he was daydreaming again, and shaking himself, he reapplied himself to his pas de chat, earning a grudging word of praise from Jeff. Male ballet dancers didn’t usually dance en pointe, but Jeff had felt that it would give Jared discipline to learn. He was doing well, he knew, but at the end of each session his toes would be bloody and bruised. He told himself he was lucky and that if he’d been a girl, this would’ve been his fate rather than an exercise he could put behind him sooner rather than later.

Later, limbs rubbery, showered and dressed in street clothes, Jared headed toward the mall on his own account, telling himself that he had to find his mother the perfect gift, and that he wasn’t just going to size up the opposition. As he reached the area in front of the mall, where the street dancers tended to congregate, he could see that they had gathered quite an audience. Maverick wasn’t dancing at that moment, and Jared could see him sitting on the steps up to the Mall entrance, chatting with one of the other guys there, face alight with laughter, for once his lamentable hat on the ground beside him rather than on top of his tousled head.

The younger kid finished his performance to a ripple of applause and coins being tossed, and one of the other kids called out to Maverick. “Your turn now, ace. Get up there and show us how it’s done.”

Still chuckling, Maverick rose to his feet and took a couple of steps towards the center of the plaza. Jared stopped, unashamedly staring at the other man as he took a breath and began to dance. He was a tornado of restless energy, whirling, leaping and spinning, his face joyful as he went through a routine that took Jared’s breath away. True, he didn’t point his toes, and sometimes he didn’t straighten his extended leg, but he was funny. His pretend pratfalls and mimed, larger than life gestures that were intended to convey the fact that he was overcome by beauty as a pretty girl tossed a few dollars into the hat soon had others contributing. By the time his dance reached its conclusion and he took a bow, he had quite the collection of cash spilling out over the sides. Scooping it all together, he thrust it into his pocket and bowed once more before picking up his backpack and heading out with a quick kiss, a leer and a smack on the ass for the pretty redhead in his group.

Jared watched him go, jittery, warm yet shivery and unused to the way that Maverick’s performance had made him feel. It was a long time before he went into the mall to find something for his mother that she might not despise.

Jensen didn’t often have trouble falling asleep at night. Usually he was so tired from his long days filled with constant activity, not to mention hard work, that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. But tonight his head was full of images of long limbs with perfectly clean lines gliding through unbelievably intricate movements with exceptional grace. Even Nureyev in his prime couldn’t hold a candle to him, and his mom had convinced Jensen that Nureyev was the greatest ballet dancer of all time. Confidence wasn’t a thing he often struggled with, but every once in a while, doubt crept in. The knowledge that most of the dancers who would be on ‘Born to Dance’ will have been training all their lives was intimidating if he let himself dwell on it. What on earth made him think he could possibly compete with them, with _him_? 

Before he got too down on himself, he found himself remembering the look on the tall ballet dancer’s face as he’d spotted him lurking at the back of the crowd this afternoon, watching him dance. He was certain that had been respect and admiration in his eyes. On the heels of that, Jensen’s thoughts returned to the strength and beauty of the dance he’d seen that morning in the studio across from the bakery. He’d never had any illusions of his own sexuality, knowing from an early age what got his heart pumping. But thinking of his soon to be competitor that way was just inappropriate. And thinking about those strong limbs twined with his own, doubly so. Besides, he needed to get his sleep; he had bread to bake in the morning. But obviously his mind had other ideas. At this rate, he’d never get to sleep. Sighing with resignation, he reached his hand into his shorts and let his thoughts roam free.

The weeks passed quickly. Jensen’s mom made extremely slow, but steady, progress. She hardly ever used her wheelchair anymore, the walker providing enough support and a bench to sit on when she got tired. She always had been his biggest fan, and she was bursting with pride that he’d gotten on the show. He was worried about how they’d get along without him, but he’d done all he could to make sure they were prepared for anything. Besides, Danneel and the rest of his crew would keep an eye on things while he was gone. He knew that the Beavers would as well. 

Nervous excitement pooled in his stomach as he put the last of his toiletries in his duffle. He had just finished latching his suitcase when Danneel bounded into his room. Danneel was the redhead who hung out with the crew, although she refused to dance in public. The two of them had known each other since pre-school, and she was the only one he'd ever confided in about his sexuality. Recently she'd let him use her as a diversion, "At least until Mr. Right came along." She'd come to take him to the airport, and she seemed just as excited as he was.

"Come on!" She slung Jensen's duffel over her shoulder while he grabbed the old, battered case. He hoped the thing made it there without popping open and strewing his clothing all over the plane. Or even the airport. He kissed his mom and sister goodbye, ignoring Mack’s surreptitious attempt to wipe away tears she’d never admit to shedding. 

The butterflies had only increased by the time they reached the airport. Danneel parked her rusty old Civic and accompanied him to the terminal, inconspicuously guiding him through the unfamiliar process of getting himself and his antiquated suitcase checked in. He extracted yet another promise from her to keep an eye on his family and to let him know immediately if anything happened. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Danneel cry, but he could see the tears threatening as she hugged him tightly. She was still standing there watching him when he got through security, so he sent a wave and a smile her way and made his way toward his gate, carefully following the signs. 

The Dallas/Fort Worth Airport is a creature with a life of its own. No matter what the hour, it’s packed with people scurrying to where they need to go. Jared knew the airport well and made his way towards Terminal A as soon as he’d checked in. There was, of course, nobody waiting to see him off, and he hadn’t expected it. Jeff had a class to teach, so Jared had taken a cab.

Golf carts driven by airport personnel with apparently murderous intent zipped by him as he strolled to his destination, and all around him there were people, most of them dragging roller bags and all of them getting in his way. Deftly avoiding a family of five with two screaming youngsters and a very sullen looking teenager, Jared climbed aboard the rolling walkway and headed towards his gate, arriving just as the pre-boarding call was announced.

There were already people boarding — a woman with a sleeping infant, an old couple who seemed very slow and unsteady on their feet. Jared shuddered. He would make sure he never got to that level of physical decrepitude. A couple of suited business types filtered through the first class barrier, and then the flight attendant began calling the coach classes for boarding by row.

He checked his boarding card. He was in row 18 and wouldn’t be boarding for a while yet. Idly, he hoped that he would fit into the cramped seats of economy class for what he knew was a three and a half hour flight.

Finally, he heard his row being called and hastened to be first to go on board. His seat was in 18B and in the middle of a bank of three. Sighing, he stowed his carry on and stood between the seats waiting to find out who would be his seatmates.

He was watching a flight attendant as he helped a young girl settle into her seat, and a deep voice behind him made him jump.

“Excuse me. I think I’ve got the inside seat there.” Turning swiftly, he found himself eye to eye with the guy he’d christened Maverick.

Wordlessly stepping out into the aisle, he watched the other man squeeze into the allotted space and smirked to himself as he realized that he was also going to find the journey rather cramped. As others filed in to take their seats, he prayed that the aisle seat would remain empty, but sadly that was not to be. A small, dark haired girl with a wide smile took her seat beside him, and he resigned himself to discomfort for the next few hours.

Maverick was tapping his fingers, and his knee was joggling in a way that implied that he might be nervous. Turning to look at him, Jared could see the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, below the ubiquitous cap. 

“You okay?” he asked, after deliberating for a few minutes,

“Not so much.” Maverick gave him a sickly smile. “I think I’m airsick.”

“We didn’t even leave the ground yet, man.” Jared gestured at the scene before them. Flight attendants were patrolling the aisles, checking that seat backs were upright and safety belts were fastened. “I take it you’ve never flown before.”

“No, and I don’t like it. I wouldn’t shut a tiny baby up in a space like this. It’s making me claustrophobic.”

Jared could sympathize, indeed he could, because even before they’d left the ground, he was starting to feel stiff and sore. He turned to look at his companion. Wide green eyes stared back at him from a face that was sprinkled with tiny freckles, and Jared felt a disconcerting lurch somewhere deep inside as he gazed. “It won’t be long, man,” he murmured in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Couple more hours and we’ll be there, ready to start dancing.”

The plane had begun to taxi out to the runway by this time, and Maverick gave him another tremulous smile. “I’m Jensen,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Jared,” responded Jared, taking hold and shaking it despite the clammy palm. “Although as far as I’m concerned, you’re Maverick.”

“Huh?” Jensen frowned. “Why Maverick?”

“That stupid hat,” said Jared, smirking. “Don’t you know that the Mavs pale to insignificance beside the mighty Spurs?” 

“Hey, don’t be dissin’ a man’s head gear,” protested Jensen, reaching up to pull the cap off his head and stuffing it down beside him on the seat as if he thought Jared might somehow destroy it. “It’s lucky. It got me through the auditions. And besides, if you call me Maverick, I’ma call you Nureyev.”

“Yeah?” Jared thought about that for a moment. “I can live with that. But it’s the Mavs! They’re such losers!”

Jensen rolled his eyes and then jumped as the plane reached the runway and began to accelerate in earnest. “Oh, fuck!”

“It’s okay, man. You aren’t gonna die. It’s just taking off.” Jared smirked. “You didn’t think it was going to drive all the way to L.A., did you?”

“Shut up! I don’t...”

Jared could see that Jensen was turning pale and tried for a distraction. “So tell me about your dancing. I’ve seen you do your thing. Very entertaining, but you seem to use a lot of tricks and go light on the technique. How did you learn?”

“I didn’t really learn, so much as I just did it,” said Jensen, holding on to the armrest with a white knuckled grip. “My mom used to love to dance, and when she was okay, we used to go watch it when we could. Can’t really afford lessons though. What do you think of when you say technique?”

“See, that’s all stuff like leg extension and knowing when to point your toes and that sort of thing. You need to learn to keep your head, shoulders and hips aligned and make sure that your arms and shoulders are kept in line when you’re dancing. It’s difficult for me to tell. Much easier to show, but not on a plane.”

“Do you think you could?” Jensen seemed to have relaxed a little, taking in Jared’s words very carefully, and his eyes flashed with excitement. “I’m gonna have to do all that shit to make it through to the top twenty, aren’t I?”

Privately, Jared didn’t think he stood much chance of making it through the week, let alone to the top twenty, but he grinned as he nodded. “Sure. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. I’m going to have to get a grip on the stuff you do. They don’t just want classical dancers, there’s all the ballroom and hip-hop and so on. I’ve never done any of that.”

“Deal!” Jensen offered him a complicated handshake and then giggled when Jared appeared clueless. “Dude! Don’t you know the bro handshake?”

“Not part of my repertoire,” said Jared, feeling a little put out.

Jensen sighed theatrically. “Guess I’d better start there then.” He held his hand up, grabbed hold of Jared’s so that they were palm to palm and thumb to thumb. “Bros shake like this,” he said, slapping his palm against Jared’s. “It’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” Jared frowned.

“Of belonging, man. Of being a bro.” Jensen peered at Jared dubiously. “Haven’t you been anywhere outside that studio of yours? What about your homies? Uh, your friends,” he added when Jared appeared confused.

“I... don’t... I’ve never really had time.” Jared hung his head. He was suddenly realizing how isolated he had actually been. “It never seemed to be a big deal to me. I just practice a lot, you know?”

“Well, stick with me, bro. I’ll make sure you go home educated,” said Jensen with a wink. “There’s more to life than pointing your toes, you know.”

“Now you’re starting to scare me,” said Jared, with a mock shudder. “My momma told me never to talk to strangers.”

“See, your momma was right,” said Jensen. “But it’s too late now. You’ve already drunk the Kool Aid.”

“I have not! Jeff would have a fit if I drank that stuff. I’m not allowed to put cheap food coloring into my body. It’s poison.” Jared made a face, and Jensen laughed.

“Just a figure of speech there. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He patted Jared’s thigh and was about to say something else when the plane gave a little lurch and the pat became a grip of iron. “What the fuck was that? Did we hit something? Are we all gonna die? We’re gonna die, aren’t we? Oh, Jesus.”

“Calm down. It’s just a bit of turbulence — we’re not going to die.” Jared was doing his best to ease Jensen’s grip on him, sure that there would be bruises once he managed to get it released. Meanwhile, the little dark haired girl sitting beside them was giggling softly.

“You think this is funny?” asked Jared.

“It is funny. No doubt about it,” she said amidst chuckles, and at that, his lips began to twitch. 

“I suppose it is, a little bit,” he said. “I don’t even know this dude really, but I think he just got me pregnant.”

The two of them collapsed into laughter, and Jensen looked between them, somewhat confused, which made Jared laugh even more.

“I couldn’t help hearing that you two are dancers.” The girl finally managed to achieve some composure. “Me too. I’m going to be on ‘Born to Dance.’”

“Hey, us too.” Jensen nodded. “Did you audition in Dallas?”

“Yeah. Second day.”

“We did the first day,” said Jared. “So hey, I’m Jared, and this here is Maverick.”

“Sandra,” she said. “But you can call me Sandy. I do mostly hip-hop, but some jazz and tap.”

“Wow, you’re an all-rounder,” groaned Jensen. “I just freestyle. Mostly popping, but with some locking.”

“I’m—”

Jared didn’t have chance to say more, because Jensen broke in. “Nureyev here’s a ballerina. Wears a tutu and everything.”

“Hey!” Jared glared at Jensen, while Sandy collapsed into fits of giggles. “Don’t you be taking Nureyev’s name in vain! He was the best there has ever been.”

“Well, so are the Mavs,” retorted Jensen, sitting back in his seat with his arms folded, a smug expression on his face.

Their flight was uneventful other than Jensen’s brief panic when the plane was coming in to land, and they were soon collecting their bags from the carousel. Jensen was relieved to see that his suitcase had made it without actually bursting at the seams, and both the boys laughed when they saw Sandy’s case, which was bright pink with Minnie Mouse on it.

They made their way out of the secure zone around the gate and followed the signs to the exit, the three of them happily chatting as they went. It was Jared who spotted the man holding the sign with their names on and elbowed Jensen in the ribs.

“Looks like they got your name wrong,” he said, indicating the waiting escort. 

“No. It’s right.” Jensen frowned as the three of them made their way over to him.

“Maverick starts with an M, not a J.”

“Shut up!”

The waiting man crumpled up his sign and tossed it into a trash can close by, nodded to them and led the way out to where a bus was parked, waiting. “I’m here to take you guys to the theater. There’s a rehearsal in an hour, so you won’t be going to the hotel ’til later tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” murmured Jared. “Looks like we’re going for a baptism of fire.”

“Best believe it,” nodded the man as he slipped into the driver’s seat. “We don’t waste any time on ‘Born to Dance.’ If you can’t hack it, we want to know sooner rather than later.” He started the engine. “We’ve got a couple of other dancers to collect from terminal B and then we’ll be on our way.” With that, he pulled out into the traffic and headed out.

“And a five, six, seven, eight.” The tall, gaunt-looking man calling incomprehensible instructions to the weary dancers had been introduced as Julian. “Step, slide, kick ball change, step, slide, kick ball change.”

Jensen was doubting his decision to ever come here. He had thought he could dance, but this wasn’t dancing. There wasn’t even any music. Just terms he’d never heard before and Julian counting to eight. Over and over again. Apparently, he was getting just as frustrated as Jensen was, because he called a break. “Take five. Or fifteen. Just don’t come back until you know your left from your right.”

Jensen heard Jared calling his name as he stalked out of the room. With Jared’s long legs, Jensen saw no way that he could outpace the other boy short of running, and Jensen had never run from anything in his life. He wasn’t about to start now. He didn’t slow down though; the brisk walk was helping him to work out some of his frustration. 

“How did I even think I could do this?” he asked as Jared drew even with him. “I don’t know a kick ball change from a pirouette. Why did I think I could learn someone else’s moves? That’s not what I do. There’s not even any music to find the groove.”

“They’re just words,” Jared argued. “You can do this. I saw you do every one of these moves outside the mall back in Dallas.”

“So that _was_ you!” Jensen surprised himself with the exclamation, thoroughly distracted from his current woes, which was probably Jared’s intention. “I had nearly convinced myself I had imagined you.”

“Yeah,” Jared responded, blushing furiously. “I didn’t know you had seen me. I was just there to buy my mom a birthday gift…” Jared trailed off, whether realizing he had accomplished his aim to get Jensen to think of something else, or maybe he'd just noticed that he was babbling and protesting a bit too strongly. Jensen certainly couldn’t say which.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jensen couldn’t help but respond teasingly. “Whatever gets you through the day.”

Jared just rolled his eyes and ignored his jibe. “Don’t worry about what they call the moves, just watch what the demonstrators do. The terms aren’t important, and they’ll come in time anyway. And the counting, it’s just so everyone does things at the same time. Anybody can learn choreography, but you… You’re a special dancer, and there’s no way I’ll ever be able to do what you do. Besides, this is hip-hop. Once you figure out what the moves are, and they set it to music, you’ll be golden.”

Jensen couldn’t believe that Jared might be insecure about his own dancing. He’d never seen someone perform as elegantly and gracefully as Jared, each motion fluid while still crisp somehow. “It’s not that hard. Maybe I’ll show you a few tricks sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Jared was blushing again, a shy smile on his face. “I think we have a lot we could learn from each other. Just be prepared for some stiff competition when it comes to it.” 

Again, Jared had managed to say the perfect thing to spark his competitive nature. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I wonder who pissed in Julian’s Cheerios this morning,” Jared mused. “He didn’t have to be so mean about it. He should’ve expected freestyle dancers that aren’t used to learning choreography.”

“Probably,” Jensen answered. “Who knows, maybe he was just trying to weed out the weak ones early. Get them to quit.”

“And you were going to let him get away with that?” Jared asked pointedly, and Jensen realized that Jared had his number again. He had no idea how this kid got to him so easily. “Let’s get back to the studio.”

Jensen soon learned that Jared was right. The moves were easy once he quit trying to make the terms make sense. And once the music started, the hard driving rhythms were easy to groove to. 45 minutes later, Jensen felt confident that he could do this. Unfortunately, not all of the others were getting on so well. Several other B-boys seemed like they could use the same advice that Jared had given Jensen during the break. And Jensen was sure at least two of them really didn’t know their right from their left. 

Once rehearsal was done, the dancers grabbed their gear and rode the buses back to the hotel. By unspoken agreement, Jensen and Jared made sure they would be roommates, then made their way back down to the hotel common areas. The powers that be had arranged dinner in one of the conference rooms, and the boys looked around for Sandy, who they hadn’t seen since Jensen had stormed out of the rehearsal earlier. 

“Why the long face?” Jensen asked, once they found her sitting by herself, staring into her plate. 

“I don’t know. Everything is so different here, and the other dancers are mean.” Jensen and Jared exchanged a look and took seats between Sandy and the rest of the room, subconsciously protecting her from all the mean dancers.

“What happened?” Jensen asked sharply, looking around as if he could identify the offenders by sight alone.

“When Julian called the break, the group near me were snickering and making fun of…” Sandy trailed off, her quick glance toward Jensen making it unnecessary for her to finish the statement.

“Of the freestylers?” Jared cut in smoothly. “The ones who’ve never done choreography before?”

Sandy nodded. “And when I pointed that out, they turned on me and said I’d better worry about my own dancing unless I wanted to follow the B-boys out of the competition.”

“You were doing fine,” Jensen reassured her. “Don’t let them get into your head.”

“And don’t you worry about Maverick here,” Jared added. “I have a feeling he’ll do just fine. Better than the jerks who were trash talking, I’d be willing to bet.”

“I guess,” Sandy sighed and turned her attention to her plate.

“Would you feel better if we went through the routine a few more times after we eat?” Jensen asked. “I wouldn’t mind some more practice myself.”

“That would be good,” Sandy smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

There were dancers all over the hotel, vying with one another for practice space. After a meal that Jared freely confessed he wouldn’t have been allowed back at the school where he lived, the threesome went to search for somewhere to rehearse. They soon concluded that there was nowhere inside the hotel that didn’t have a full complement of dancers, all desperately attempting to consolidate the choreography they’d learned. Finally, Jensen, street dancer that he was, suggested they try their luck outside, and eventually they found themselves on a patio beside the pool.

At that moment, Jensen felt the cares drop away. They may have been in a strange city, out on the grounds of a strange hotel, but before his audition, Jensen had never danced inside a theater, or even a building of any kind. Out here, under the orange of the lights, beneath the hazy L.A. night sky, he felt at home.

“Okay. Who’s going to count for us?”

They all looked at each other, and finally, Sandy gave a sigh. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

The three of them assumed their starting positions, and Sandy began to count. Jensen felt much better about the routine after going through it again a couple of times away from the other hopefuls who had been so derogatory in the theater. 

“Can we do it one at a time so we can get a bit of a peer review?” Jared was somewhat worried. He could tell that there was something missing from his own performance and really wanted some pointers.

“Yeah. Good idea.” Sandy was out of breath and sweaty but seemed excited by the idea. 

Jensen just nodded. He had the routine down now, but he had no idea how well he was doing as far as performance was concerned. “Who goes first?”

“Let me.” Sandy got ready, and both men began to count as she launched into the dance. Once she was done, she looked at Jared for comment, but in fact it was Jensen that began to speak. 

“No swag,” he murmured. “You gotta pretend like you’re the queen of the street and fuck everyone who gets in your way. Do it again and pretend like you’re mad at someone and you’re gonna shank ‘em or something.”

Sandy frowned, but got ready again, and this time her performance made Jensen nod. Meanwhile, Jared didn’t wait to say he was going next, just got into position and started to go into the routine. 

He wasn’t all the way through it when Jensen called out for him to stop. “Dude, that walking skeleton guy isn’t gonna go for that. You look like a ballet dancer doing a hip-hop routine. Quit pointing your toes and punch it. See.” He did the move he’d picked out so Jared could see what he meant. “Also, your arms are too graceful. You have to do the opposite of what you’re used to. It isn’t pretty; it’s strong. Do it as if you’re...” He frowned. “I dunno. Pretend you’re challenging someone to a danceoff. Like you’re the best there is, and you know it.”

Jared tried again... and again, and after a number of repetitions he began to get the feel for it. Sandy headed to bed to get some sleep before morning and the performance, while the two men carried on for a further hour. Eventually, exhausted and finding it impossible to keep awake much longer, they went back to their room to sleep for what was left of the night.

The following morning, nervous as they could possibly be, they assembled in the theater in their assigned groups, ready to dance for Julian and the other judges. Group after group performed. Some of them were dismissed outright, and Jared felt a twisting in his belly. No way was he going to go home so early. Jeff would laugh at him. His parents would mock him. He’d have no choice but to run away and join the Foreign Legion — if there even was such a thing any more.

Sandy’s group was up on the stage, and to Jared’s eye she was doing pretty well. She’d certainly taken Jensen’s words to heart, and her performance looked authentic. He only prayed that his wouldn’t look like the pretty dancing Jensen had accused him of doing. 

Sandy was saved, one of only two in her group, and Jensen was in the next five to take the stage, along with a couple of the contemporary dancers who had been pointing their fingers at him the previous day when he was second guessing himself about the choreography. Jared could see the determination on Jensen’s features, and when the music started, he saw with approval that Jensen was pulling out all the stops. Arrogant and hard hitting, he killed the routine, eliciting a few words of praise from Julian, who confessed that he had thought he’d be sending Jensen home after his showing the afternoon before. Sweat soaked and beaming, Jensen did a little somersault as he left the stage.

Then it was Jared’s turn.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to channel Jensen as he began to go through the routine. ‘Don’t point your toes. Don’t be a ballet dancer — you’re a mean mofo,’ he chanted to himself as he performed. The dance hardly seemed to have begun before it was over, and he was waiting for the verdict.

“Jared, step forward.” Julian’s quiet voice jolted him out of a trance. “You’re going to have to work on your swag, but it wasn’t bad. You’re through to the next round.”

“Thank you,” he whispered and crept down off the stage to join the other two, congratulate them and discuss the solos they would be performing that afternoon.

Their solos carried them through the afternoon, and as evening fell, they were introduced to the next choreographer, a very well connected Broadway promoter who was to take them through a Broadway routine. Mark Pellegrino was tall and well built with a bird’s nest of disheveled blond hair and a habit of calling them all ‘luv’ as he paced up and down in front of them. 

“Okay, luvs,” he said to the assembled group. “The routine is going to be an especially tough one, because they didn’t have Corn Pops at breakfast, and I get mean if I can’t have my Corn Pops. It’s my only vice, and I put in a complaint to the concierge, so maybe I won’t be mean tomorrow, but you can’t bet on that, so make sure you get it right.”

He beckoned a young couple onto the stage and gestured limply to them to start the dance. “Watch this carefully. You’re all going to do this, or you’re going to go home, got it?”

There then followed an afternoon that Jared would never forget — Mark was everywhere, calling out encouragement, slapping limbs that weren’t correctly in position, and grinning manically as he counted out the tempo. He aimed a stinging slap on Jared’s ass as he sauntered past at one point and muttered ‘Prime real estate, luv!’ as he moved on to correct Sandy’s posture. 

Jared kept an eye on Jensen. He could see the other man was concentrating hard, biting his lower lip and moving crisply in an effort to nail the choreography competently. He could see Mark move to stand behind him, nodding as he watched.

“You got it, luv. Don’t be afraid of camping it up a little. It’s _Broadway_ after all.”

The moves weren’t those he was used to, but it was still dancing, and Jared lost himself in telling the story that Mark’s choreography was unfolding. For once, he felt confident that the morning would see them both through to the next round.

Later — much later, when he fell into bed and lay drowsily listening to Jensen’s soft snores, he knew that he could never just go back to the school. He would be a dancer with far more of a future than the Corps de Ballet at the Dallas Ballet Company. He would take the opportunities that ‘Born to Dance’ handed him and break out of his mold at last. If he couldn’t do that, then he wasn’t really a dancer, and he would deserve to give up and go home to his father’s company.

Jared had worked with many choreographers over his years of training, but none quite like the ones he was working with this week. First had been grouchy Julian, bouncing all over the place with a seemingly limitless pool of energy while he berated them for their inability to interpret his instructions and come up with the moves that he had envisioned. Then Mark Pellegrino prancing around on tiptoes calling them all ‘luv’. 

But this latest one took the cake. He’d been introduced as Christian Kane but had demanded that they “just call him Kane”. He had the foulest mouth of anyone Jared had ever worked with, by far. After two hours of being called fucking pussies and told to get their heads out of their asses, Jared was frustrated. It didn’t help that the moves were just enough like what he was accustomed to from his ballet training, but the technique Kane required was _completely_ different. Toes flexed when he was used to pointing and weird arm angles and carriage just subtly altered, and Kane made sure to point out to Jared (and all the rest of the dancers) how lacking his technique was. 

“Don’t _do_ the dance, _feel_ the dance. You’re too rigid, son. Loosen up.” Kane tapped him on the back, near his rib cage. Jared really didn’t know how to relax his posture there without allowing his diaphragm to collapse, and then he couldn’t even breathe, much less dance. He did his best and tried not to let it bother him that Kane was singling him out for all of the harshest criticism. He got it. It had been obvious to everyone from the beginning that he had the most formal training of any of the dancers, and he was sure that Kane was just using him to show all the dancers that none of them would be allowed to skate by on their training alone; all of them were going to have to stretch and grow. And that’s what Jared wanted, really. But that didn’t make it any easier to take. 

Fortunately, Jensen seemed to be having an easier time of it. Jared could tell that he was carefully watching the dancers demonstrating the jazz routine, rather than focusing on the technical terms for the moves. But Jensen was doing at least as well as Jared was himself. He’d obviously picked up on the distinctions between the styles, focusing on the little things like weight distribution, lines and feet. Even Sandy had fewer of the distinctive style markers than Jared. Jared knew what to watch, but he had a hard time changing his technique that way. When doing ballet, he could rely on muscle memory and relax into the routine and focus on intangibles and emotion.Outside his style, he didn’t have that luxury.

Regardless, Jared was sure that all three of them would get through this round easily. Looking around the room and comparing their skills against the rest of the field, Jared felt good about their chances. He was also gratified to see that only one of the mean-spirited dancers from that first rehearsal, Brock Kelly, had made it this far. 

As he’d expected, all three of them sailed through easily. But another dozen or so were cut. They were down to 49 dancers already, and by the end of the week, the top twenty would be selected. Jared tried not to think about it as they headed to dinner, chatting about how they should take advantage of the short day. But, to their dismay, it was not to be. Just as they were polishing off their plates, Mark Sheppard, the lead judge, came out to tell them that they were to be split into groups to choreograph a routine to be performed the next morning. Both Jared and Jensen breathed sighs of relief when he said that they could choose their own group. Music and style would be chosen out of a hat. As soon as they were dismissed, the three friends waited for their turn with the hat. 

Turned out, there were two hats, one each for music and dance style. Jensen smiled broadly as Sandy pulled hiphop from the first hat and then frowned when Jared pulled ‘Songbird’ by Kenny G from the other hat. Jared was completely drawn in by the clear emotions on his face. Jensen caught him staring and they both looked away, blushing. 

“Aren’t you two just adorable,” gushed Sandy. 

Jared just stared harder at the ground, but Jensen shoved her shoulder and responded with, “Shut up. We’ve got work to do.”

They made their way out to the poolside patio they had found their first day there and gathered around the music player, listening to the music Jared had picked out. Jared and Sandy were seated on the ground, listening intently. Jensen was standing, slowly working out what he could do with this impossible music. They didn’t even talk about it; there was no question but that Jensen would choreograph. 

“The groove is very subtle in this music,” Jensen noted. “Even my crew back in Dallas would have a hard time staying in the pocket.” 

Jensen had just started demonstrating what he was thinking when Samantha Smith, the ballroom judge, came out to their patio with Brock Kelly and a girl whose name Jared couldn’t remember. They had been getting accustomed to working with camera operators and other production crew around all the time, but a judge was a different story. Jared had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This couldn’t be good.

“These two need a group,” Samantha said as she and the other two dancers approached. “Theirs broke up when they couldn’t agree on who was to choreograph. Looks like your group has already worked that out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jensen answered. Jared was sure that Jensen had to be feeling the same dismay that he himself was feeling, but there was no sign of it. “We’ll make it work.”

“Hi, I’m Nicki.” The new girl held her hand out to Jensen. She was very petite, with short, platinum hair and a ready smile. “Thank you for adding us to your group.”

Jensen shook her hand and nodded, “I’m Jensen, and this is Jared and Sandy.” He indicated each of them in turn then looked expectantly at Brock. 

When Brock didn’t immediately speak, Jensen just raised his eyebrow and waited. Finally Brock relented, broke eye contact, and muttered, “Brock Kelly. Thanks.”

Jensen nodded and acted as if that had been the appropriate greeting. Jared was glad Jensen was choreographing this, as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his cool with the arrogant, condescending contemporary dancer. “Welcome. So, what do you do?”

“Contemporary,” Nicki answered. 

“Show me something,” Jensen said, nodding. 

Nicki nodded and launched into a quick four count move that ended with an attitude leap. Jared was impressed by the height of the jump and the lines were very pretty and accentuated her nice legs and feet. 

“I can work with that,” Jensen said before turning to Brock. “Your turn.”

Brock did a sixteen count series of moves featuring a backflip and a split leap. To Jared’s eye, it was obvious he was trying to show Jensen up and intimidate him. But Jensen didn’t bat an eye.

“See if you can get that down to four beats and make sure you still feel comfortable with the tricks once you hear our music. It’s gonna be hard to get your momentum up. Speaking of music…” Jensen turned the music back on and the clear tones of the soprano saxophone poured out again. He snapped his fingers along with it, emphasizing the almost nonexistent rhythm in the song. “As we were saying before you came over, the groove is very subtle. Everyone’s going to have to pay attention and feel the music to stay in the pocket. And as slow as it is, it’s going to look really awful if we’re not in sync.”

Brock got a stubborn look on his face when Jensen didn’t react to his posturing. Jensen just kept going, showing them what he had in mind. Nothing he put in was hard, just somewhat complicated. The music was lyrical and sensuous, and Jensen was somehow able to reflect that. He put in stepping rhythms and what he called tutting along with some isolations, all serving to emphasize the subtle beat of the song. Brock got with the program before he fell too far behind, and Jared was awed by the masterful but understated way Jensen took control of what Jared had been sure was going to be an awkward situation. Once again, he was glad it had been Jensen and not himself. Jared caught himself watching Jensen and appreciating the fluid way his body moved with the song rather than trying to emulate those movements himself. He shook himself out of that mode and rededicated himself to learning the steps. It wouldn’t do to be cut because he was mooning over another dancer. 

Once they had the moves down, Jensen stopped demonstrating and started watching. After once through the section, he stopped them. “Okay, you guys are getting the steps, but in order for it to feel like hip-hop, it has to have flavor. You guys are standing all straight and pretty, you need to get your center of gravity lower. Also, you’re right on top of the beat, and it needs to be almost after. Sandy, that’s a pretty good groove, but get down with it a little bit more.”

By eleven o’clock, they had a routine that Jared thought was surprisingly good for one evening’s work. It looked a lot harder than it was. It had complicated movements that were completely unfamiliar to Jared, but weren’t hard and all of them had been able to pick them up quickly. In the bridge portion of the song, Jensen had worked all of their individual signature moves into a cool looking section that spotlighted each of their strengths but didn’t feature anyone more than the others. 

“You guys are looking at each other too much. This isn’t a battle where we’re reacting to each other. Just dance. Get into the character of it more, feel it. You know the moves, but you need to trust yourself. Let’s go one at a time so we can’t be following each other. The most important thing is to get the groove right and to be completely synchronized. We can’t do that if we’re so busy watching what everyone else is doing.”

By the time they called it a night at 12:30, Jared was exhausted but proud of what they’d created. Brock had completely accepted Jensen’s leadership and was even contributing ideas that worked for all of them, rather than ones that would paint him in the best light. They agreed to meet up before breakfast to run through it once more and headed to their rooms. Jensen and Jared barely spoke to each other and were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. 

Their group was up first. Nerves fluttered in Jared’s stomach, but he breathed through it as he’d been taught, trusting in the choreography and the other members of his group. They nailed everything perfectly, and he could barely contain his excitement to listen to the judge’s reactions. 

“Jensen, is that right?” Julian asked from his spot in the long row of judges that were all there to judge the group round. On Jensen’s nod, Julian continued, “You choreographed that?”

“Yes, sir.” Jensen answered easily, apparently as calm as Jared had ever seen him.

“Nice work,” Julian praised. “You took these stage clowns and showed them the essence of what a street dance would look like. You gave each of them a chance to showcase themselves, but still kept the groove like a hip-hop dance should. You did as well with that as anyone could have done with this group and that music in one evening, even me.”

“Go on,” Mark Sheppard said, waving them off the stage. “Get out of here. You’re all through.”

They breathed a collective sigh of relief and scampered off the stage. 

The day was off to good start but almost immediately headed downhill. By the end of the day, another thirteen dancers had been sent packing, leaving 38 to move on. 

The stress and the frantic pace were exhausting them. Their little band had expanded to include Brock and Nicki, and none of them wanted to go home now that they’d come so far. They were all tired, though, and Sandy was panicking because she’d somehow strained her knee and needed to go for medical treatment. She was carried off by one of the PAs — of whom there were many — pale faced and crying. Fortunately, when she returned a whilelater, she’d had a shot of steroids into the offending knee and it was strapped up in a way that would permit movement while supporting it at the same time. 

A tall, exotic looking woman named Traci proved to be their next choreographer, and she had them take a seat on the stage while she quizzed them about their dance styles and where they were from. Jensen, thoroughly drained of all energy, made the mistake of falling asleep and almost toppled over into Jared, who did his best to cover up for him, hoping that Traci wouldn’t notice.

It was to no avail. Once they had seen the dance and begun to learn the routine, she singled Jensen out for criticism every couple of minutes, complaining that he’d never be able to get through the program if he didn’t learn to point his toes. By the time the judging round arrived, it was late. Everyone was starving. Stomachs were rumbling audibly, and Jensen announced that he was so hungry and demoralized that he was ready to pack his case and leave before he was thrown out on his ear.

Jared could only watch as Jensen began to falter, and by the time the performance to be judged came around, he had a feeling in his gut that he’d never experienced before. He was terrified that he was going to lose Jensen before he’d really gotten to know him properly.

Fortunately, Jensen rallied somewhat during his performance, although it wasn’t perfect by any means, and when the six dancers from his group were lined up, it was obvious from the stoic expression on his face that he believed he was going home.

“Jensen, step forward.” Mark’s command made him jump visibly, and Jared, who had waited for him after completing his own round, watched as he took a deep breath and took that fatal pace to stand in front of the others.

“What in the world happened to you?” Mark sounded perplexed. “You were doing really well, and then all of a sudden, we get your impression of Godzilla on a bad day, feeling too knackered to destroy Tokyo.”

“Not... not sure what went wrong, sir.” Jensen had his game face firmly in place. “I just... ran out of steam, I think.”

“Well, you’d better go and get yourself steamed up again, my lad, because I want you back here at 9:30, and you’re going to do it again and bloody well impress us. You got that?” Mark turned to look at the other judges, who were all nodding agreement, even Traci. “Now go away and eat. I want you full of piss and vinegar, right?”

Jensen’s nose turned pink, and Jared was afraid that he was going to cry, but he just nodded and hurried off the stage.

“Don’t say a word,” he hissed as Jared fell in alongside of him. “I sucked, and I’m gonna go home.”

“Not on my watch, you’re not.” Jared grabbed his shoulder and spun him around so they were face to face. “If you give up now, I’m never gonna forgive you for letting that... that _bitch_ take it out on you. You’re better than that, and you owe it to yourself to get it right. She was ragging on you until you weren’t sure if you were coming or going, but you’re not gonna let her win.”

“She already did. You saw the mess I made of everything.”

“You can do better than that, and you will.” Jared shook his head. “Look, go grab food, because that’s half the problem, right there.” They reached the dining room, and Jared sat him down and went to order a light meal for him. He returned moments later with chicken salad and a Gatorade, which he plopped down in front of Jensen.

“Sit here, eat, drink and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, Jared turned and ran back to the theater.

Brock was just coming off the stage when Jared barreled down the aisle and grabbed his arm. “Just the man I need,” he said, towing him up towards the back of the stalls in the direction of the cafeteria.

“What’s going on?” Brock was frowning. 

“Jensen needs some help, and it’s your discipline. I’d be really grateful if you could give him a little coaching before he has to go back and repeat the routine.” Jared mentally crossed his fingers that Brock would agree to help and held his breath as he waited for the other man to give his answer.

“You know I was kind of a dick to him when this thing started.” Brock shook his head. “But he got me through that godawful group routine, so I guess I owe him one. Where is he?”

“He’d better be in the dining room,” said Jared, making his way through the foyer to the elevator that would take them up to the restaurant on the mezzanine floor. “I told him to stay there, and if he hasn’t, I’ll be really mad.”

Entering the dining area, Jared was relieved to see that Jensen was still there, although his meal was only a memory. Jensen looked up as the two of them approached him and gave a wry smirk.

“Come to mock the afflicted?” he asked.

“Dinner all done?” Jared ignored his pointed comment. “Good, because Brock and I are gonna make you sweat. Come on.”

“What about you guys?” Jensen protested. “You have to eat too!”

“Fine,” Jared grudgingly agreed. “I’ll fix a couple of plates for later. But the priority is getting you ready to nail that routine by half past nine.”

Their space in the pool area was in use, due to the early hour, but Brock led them to a quiet room he’d discovered earlier in the week, and the three of them hung a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob and closed the door behind them.

“First thing about contemporary, Jensen, is that you do better barefoot, so lose the shoes and socks, okay?” Brock went through the short routine to demonstrate it, “That lets you slide into moves that otherwise would look jerky.”

He watched as Jensen did as he’d been told. “Let me see you do the routine. That way we’ll know what to work on. It’s eight now, and if you have to be back on stage at 9:30 we don’t have long. You should probably know that there are at least five other people that they want to see do it over, so you aren’t alone.”

That information seemed to help perk Jensen up, and he went through the routine for Brock, while Jared danced it alongside him to give him confidence.

“Okay. There are two main problems I can see. You start well enough. It begins to go wrong on the arabesque, so let’s take it from there.” Brock demonstrated the move a couple of times and then stood to face Jensen, “First problem is that your leg elevation in the arabesque isn’t looking good, because your knee isn’t straight. From there you go into the tuck and roll, and that’s perfect, but when you get to your feet and spin out of it, you’re not pulling in enough, so the spin isn’t fast enough, and you look to be off balance.”

Jensen nodded and without further prompting went into the arabesque and held it, waiting for commentary. Both the others studied it for a moment, and then Jared moved in to position his leg the way it needed to be.

Over and over again, they repeated the move until Jensen murmured snarkily that the offending leg would actually fall off if they weren’t careful, but finally Brock pronounced himself satisfied. “Okay, start from the beginning, and let’s look at that spin.”

It was a relief to Jared to see him slip easily into the routine. The bare feet seemed to help, and he slid gracefully through the routine, leaping and whirling, toes pointing and legs straight. When he finally went into the spin that Brock felt needed work, Brock called to him to pull his arms in further to his body. That was all it took, and the dance was complete.

He went through it several more times, but finally Jared called out that it was almost time. With a brief ‘thank you, catch you on the flip side,’ to the other two, he set off for the theater, his head held high.

Jared and Brock both took a seat to watch, and Jared felt those butterflies all over again. Jensen couldn’t go home. He just couldn’t.

When Jensen was called, he strode onto the stage barefoot, looking determined.

“Come on then, kiddo. Show us all what you’ve _really_ got!” Sheppard’s lazy growl made Jensen grin, much to Jared’s amazement. Then as the music started he was off, executing each move crisply and cleanly, leg straight as he leant into the arabesque that had caused him so much trouble, then melting into the roll that would lead into the final spin.

For a moment, everything was quiet, and a flicker of fear shot over Jensen’s face as he waited for the judges to confer. Finally, Sheppard looked up.

“Better. Should have done that to start with and saved us all a bunch of time and misery. Go on and get some sleep. You’re through to the next round.”

Coming down off the stage, Jensen seemed to be in a dream. When both Jared and Brock jumped him, he seemed to be unsteady enough that Jared thought he might fall over.

“Time for bed, I think,” said Brock with a yawn. “You look like you’re bagged, and I’m practically falling asleep where I stand.” Raising his hand, he turned and headed off, presumably to go to his room.

Jensen still hadn’t said anything at all, and he looked dazed. Jared stared at him and then, on a sudden impulse, flung his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Jensen melted against him for a moment, but then pushed him away. “Need to go lie down, dude,” he said. “You coming?”

Exhaustion was setting in for Jensen, Jared could tell from the way he was stumbling. Normally surefooted, Jensen moved as if he couldn’t feel his legs, and Jared considered picking him up and carrying him. It was only the thought that Jensen would likely hate that idea that stopped him.

By the time they reached the elevator, Jared was pretty close to propping him up, and Jensen gave him a sleepy smile. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “You came to m’rescue. Didn’t have to.”

“Oh yes I did!” Jared gave a short laugh. “Won’t be much fun winning if I don’t have any decent competition, will it?”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen elbowed him in the gut. “Yeah, because you’re better than me? Hah! I dunno! Fuckin’ ballerina!”

The elevator stopped with a ping, and the two of them made their way along the corridor to their room, Jensen still warm against Jared’s side.

Once in the room, Jensen flopped down on his bed and sat gazing into somewhere that could have been a thousand light years away. Jared shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t. You didn’t even warm down. If you just crash now, you’re gonna be so stiff and sore in the morning that you’ll fall on your ass and get cut, and then where will my competition be? At least go get a hot shower and loosen up a bit. Then do a few stretches before you keel over.”

The pout on Jensen’s face was reminiscent of Jared’s three-year-old nephew when he was denied the candy that would spoil his dinner. He laughed as Jensen got to his feet with a sigh. “There’s a good boy. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

As he heard the shower turn on, he smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure just what it was about Jensen that made him feel so protective. There was something about his roommate that made him desperately want to take care of him. It wasn’t long before Jensen re-appeared, damp and glowing amid a cloud of steam. He rummaged through his belongings for a pair of sweats and pulled them on, letting the towel fall to the floor. Jared knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop, and after a while, Jensen stood up and raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” He said. “Has a third eyeball suddenly appeared on me or something?”

“No, it’s not that.” Jared frowned, not quite sure what he was feeling. “I just… I don’t… I kinda feel like I need to take care of you.” He rose to his feet and reached to put his arms around Jensen and hugged him again. He was never quite sure afterwards who was the more surprised when suddenly, out of nowhere, their lips met and for a moment they clung to each other. Then Jensen broke away and yawned mightily, and the moment was lost.

“Guess tomorrow we find out who goes home and who goes forward.” Jared began to get ready for his own shower. “Get some sleep. Stressful day tomorrow.”

Long after Jared had showered and gone to sleep, Jensen lay awake. His mind wouldn’t stop going over everything that had happened that day. He’d been so sure that he was going home, and then Jared had taken care of him, making him eat and getting Brock to work with him. He didn’t understand why Jared cared so much whether he went home or not. And then Jared had kissed him. It just made the whole day, and the whole callback week so far, so confusing! He’d never had a romantic relationship. There weren’t too many opportunities for a gay boy in North Texas, not to mention a gay boy steeped in hiphop culture. But he’d never really missed it either. He didn’t have time for one thing, and from what he’d seen, they seemed to be more trouble than they were worth. But now … maybe there had been something missing from his life. He found himself thinking of Jared all the time. He missed him when they weren’t together and couldn’t imagine how he’d have felt if he had gone home today. But Jared had made sure he wouldn’t. 

Eventually, Jensen did manage to go to sleep. The next morning came all too soon and they were back at it again. Today was their solos and then the brutal wait as they told everyone whether they’d been selected for the top twenty. There were still 33 dancers in the competition, and while he felt good about his upcoming solo, his abysmal failure in the contemporary round had shaken him. He’d just have to make sure this solo knocked their socks off. 

His dancing had more energy and explosiveness when he freestyled, so there was little he could do to prepare. He watched the rest of their merry little band as they went over their routines, and gave his opinion when asked. Brock was really a very good dancer, once you got past the horrible first impression he’d made. Nicki was beautiful and knew exactly how to dance to show the best of herself. Sandy was good too, just a little bit lacking in confidence. And Jared … Jared was utterly stunning. The way he moved was poetry in motion. Ballet had never made him feel anything until he’d seen Jared dance. Now he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Or maybe that was just Jared’s effect on him. 

“What are you gonna do, Mav?” Jared asked, after he’d gone through his own routine three times.

“I’ll do the same music I did at the mall that day,” Jensen answered. 

“Do you know your routine?” Jared pushed. 

“I don’t really work that way,” Jensen answered. “Everything flows better if I just go with it in the moment. I have a basic idea of what tricks I’m gonna do, a couple of different flips and several freezes and there’s one section of the music that just screams for some locking. But that’s it.”

“Okay, sounds good. Just go up there, do your thing and blow their minds,” Jared responded. “Did you stretch? Is that hamstring still bothering you?”

“Stop being a nervous nelly,” Jensen admonished. “I’ll be fine. But if you’re offering to massage my leg, I wouldn’t say no.”

To Jensen’s surprise, Jared actually did massage his hamstring. He also showed him a couple of stretches that targeted the sore muscle. Must be all those years of training coming in handy.

One by one they danced for all of the judges. They didn’t get any feedback, just a simple ‘ thank you.’ Sandy was the first from their group, and was certain it hadn’t been good enough. They all reassured her, and for Jensen’s part, he wasn’t just trying to make her feel better. She was as good as any of the others, and better than several that he’d seen that afternoon. 

Brock was next, and from his body language, he was as cocky as ever. Jensen found it technically brilliant, but a bit cold. All flash and no substance. Nothing like Jared’s dancing. Then it was Jared’s turn. As usual, he took Jensen’s breath away. Dizzying spins, leaps that made it seem like he could fly, beautiful poses with all the technique that Jensen was learning to recognize, if not always do himself, and all in special shoes, up on his toes ‘en pointe’ as Jared called it. Jensen’s feet hurt just watching Jared dance.

Jensen was glad that there were a few dancers between Jared’s and his own turn. He took deep breaths and thought about his music while stretching the hamstring again for good measure. Then it was time. As usual, he remembered little from when he danced. The music started, and he hit his opening cue, and the next thing he knew, he was finished and the whole audience was applauding wildly. The judges’ faces were impassive, but he was sure he caught a little twitch to Julian’s lips. He made his way back to their little group to wait for Nicki’s turn to dance. Jared hugged him excitedly, and he couldn’t help but hug him back.

“That was awesome, man,” Jared whispered once Jensen was seated. “Just what you needed to do.”

“Thanks,” Jensen whispered back, trying not to disrupt the girl preparing to do her solo. He felt good about his own, but you never knew. “I hope so.” 

Soon Nicki danced — and nailed everything perfectly. There were only a few more dancers after her until they broke for dinner. After dinner, they were to wait in Hall H until they were called to learn their fate. Jensen was so excited and nervous that he could barely eat. The rest of the group seemed to be feeling the same. Everyone finished eating quickly, so it wasn’t time to report to the conference room yet. They headed outside, and luckily their patio was free. They sat around chatting, joking around and trying to distract each other from their anxiety.

“Jensen, you and Jared are for sure gonna make it in,” Brock said. Even he seemed a little nervous now that it had gotten to be that time. 

“They’d be stupid not to take Nureyev here,” Jensen agreed. “Not so sure about me.”

“You had that great group round,” Brock insisted. “I’m not sure I’d have made it through without you that round.”

“Yeah,” Nicki agreed. “That other group was impossible, even before Chad Murray and Brock started butting heads.”

Jensen blushed at their praise. “I think we will most likely all five get through. None of us are anywhere close to the weakest ones left.” 

“I hope so,” Sandy murmured quietly. “I’d hate to be the only one of us that doesn’t make it.”

“Stop thinking like that,” Jared said, a bit sharply. “You’re really, really good, and you’d be even better if you’d realize how good you are.”

Jensen nodded. Jared had put it better than he could have. “What he said.” It wasn’t long before it was time to head to the Hall H to await their fate. The atmosphere in the conference room was even more tense than it had been outside with just their small group. Many dancers had apparently come here straight after dinner, and there weren’t five chairs near each other, so they went to sit on the floor to the side, but another dancer — Jensen thought her name was Katharine— got her friends to move a bit so they could sit together. And then they started calling people. Half of the first six got through, and it was obvious from their faces who was who as soon as they came back to the room to collect their things and celebrate or commiserate with the friends they’d made during the week.

Jared was next, and Jensen found the wait excruciating. Time seemed to fly and stand still at the same time. It could’ve been two minutes or two hours by the time Jared returned with a huge grin on his face. He hugged Jensen enthusiastically, whispering in his ear that it would be his time soon, he was sure of it. He hugged the other three as well, before gathering his things, giving Jensen another hug and making his way out the door.

After that, the wait was even more agonizing. Katharine and a contemporary dancer got through and another three dancers were cut. Next was Nicki’s turn. She came back with a big smile and hugs for all of them before disappearing through the same door Jared had. 

Another four dancers were put through and three cut before Sandy was called and then returned with a huge smile and a big sigh of relief. She had hugs for Brock and Jensen, and soon she was gone as well. 

“How do you think they pick the order they call us in?” Jensen asked, after trying not to think about it and failing miserably. 

“When Jared went early, I thought it might be that the obvious choices would go first,” Brock answered, obviously having given it quite a bit of thought. “And Nicki going early would’ve followed that theory, although I would’ve expected you to go around the time Jared did. But then they took Brit, Genevieve and Chad Rook, and that blew my theory completely. So … I have no idea how they decide who finds out next. Gotta say this waiting is brutal!”

“You know you’re gonna make it through, right?” Jensen assured Brock.

“I hope so,” Brock answered. “This has been my dream since I was little. This show is what got me started dancing.”

“I think I’ve always danced,” Jensen mused. “Dancing is what got me through the dark times after the accident. We’d lost Dad and Josh, and had no idea if Mom would ever wake up, much less walk again. Mack poured herself into her schoolwork, and I danced. It was both my refuge and the only way I could release all the pain and anger.”

“You never talk about that,” Brock said, obviously surprised that Jensen was opening up to him. “You must be desperate for something to talk about.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Jensen agreed, laughing. “It’s better than stressing about when they’ll call our names.”

“You know you’re gonna make it through, right?” Brock echoed Jensen’s words back at him. “I hope so,” Jensen answered with a smile, glad that he had someone to talk to even when Jared wasn’t around. 

“Dude, how are we friends?” Brock asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. “I was a real dick to you and to Sandy the first few days we were here.”

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. “You were. But when it came time to work, you buckled down and gave it your all. You held up your end, learned the routine, and did the group proud. I don’t ever ask any more of my crew than that. I figure the initial awkwardness was just nerves and integrating into a new group of people. Happens to everyone. How could I not give you a pass?”

“Thanks, man,” Brock said warmly. “Our little group has been a life-saver for me. And if you hadn’t accepted me, Jared and Sandy wouldn’t have either and I’d still be awkwardly trying to fit in and being a dick to everyone.”

“I knew you were good people while we were doing the group thing,” Jensen answered. “And you confirmed it by helping me through that brutal contemporary round.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Brock reiterated. “And we’re both gonna make it through. So whoever gets called, the other of us can’t get down while we’re waiting by ourselves in this room. Okay?”

“Deal,” Jensen agreed, unsure if he’d be able to follow through on his promise. He’d try his hardest though. This waiting game was agonizing. 

By the time Brock’s name was called, two more had been put through and another two cut. Relief and excitement were obvious on his face when he hugged Jensen, grabbed his things, and followed the same path as the rest of their group. Leaving Jensen to wait alone. Or with six other people, the only one whose name he knew was an oddball tapper called Travis. Jensen waited. 

Three more made it through and two more were cut. Mack might be the math whiz in the family, but Jensen could count, and he knew there were only two spots left. Finally, it was Jensen’s turn. 

“You learned to dance on the street, right?” Julian asked, unexpectedly. “No lessons at all?”

“That’s right, sir,” Jensen answered simply.

“Tell us what dance means to you,” Pellegrino asked.

“I’ve danced as long as I can remember. But about five years ago was a really dark time in my life. Dance is what got me through.”

“It shows,” Traci said kindly, surprising Jensen, since he’d been sure she’d be voting against him after that disastrous contemporary round. “There’s a lot of heart in your dancing, not just machismo like a lot of B-boys.”

“You know that you’ll have to work twice as hard as the studio trained dancers to even hope to keep up,” Sam said then, and Jensen’s heart soared. He was going to make it! “We expect you to be able to compete in all styles, just like everyone else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jensen tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. They still hadn’t said the words. “I will, ma’am. I will work harder than I ever have in my life.”

“We think you will,” Sheppard agreed. “That’s why we’re putting you through.”

Jensen whooped with elation. 

“Congratulations,” Julian said, smiling broadly. “Go join your friends.”

When he went back to Hall H to collect his gear, Travis and the other boy were sitting next to each other, biting their nails. Both were called together as Jensen left the room. 

The other four of them were just outside the door when he came through. He nearly ran over Jared in his haste to go find them. He grinned at them and said, “I guess we all made it after all.”

“And you doubted,” Nicki teased, laughing. 

“I wasn’t the only one,” Jensen returned. “I think we all had our insecure moments this evening.”

“That we did,” Sandy agreed. “And yet here we are.”

They moved away from the door, still celebrating. It wasn’t long before Travis came through the door, bringing their number to twenty. Soon after Travis, the four main judges came out and all the dancers gathered around.

“Congratulations to all of you,” Sam Smith said. “You have all earned the right to celebrate. Great job!”

“But the real challenge starts in three weeks,” Traci continued. “We’ll see you back here then.”

“So go home, rest up, and say goodbye to your friends and family back home,” Rick Worthy advised. “You’re not going to see much of them for a while after that. The longer, the better, right?”

They all laughed and agreed. Jensen was sure the rest of the group was feeling the same giddy sense of relief that he was. 

“So, for those of you that don’t know each other,” Sheppard smiled, and Jensen thought that might be the first genuine smile he’d seen on the lead judge’s face. A few smirks maybe, but not a real smile like this one. “Let us introduce for the first time, our _top twenty!_ ”

“For contemporary dancers, we have Alona Tal and Nicki Aycox,” the two girls each stepped forward as Traci called their names. Then the boys stepped forward in their turn as she called their names. “Brock Kelly, Chad Rook, and Dylan Everett.”

“For jazz, we have Sandy McCoy and Genevieve Cortese,” Sam Smith went on, and the dancers stepped forward as their names were called. “And for ballroom, we have Brit Sheridan, Katharine Isabelle and Gil McKinney.”

“Our breakers are Jensen Ackles, Osric Chau, and Felicia Day,” Rick Worthy introduced. Jensen couldn’t stop smiling as he stepped forward and gave Felicia a fistbump. “And hip-hop gives us Lindsey McKeon, Emily Perkins, Madison McLaughlin, Chad Murray, and Demore Barnes.” 

“Our tapper is Travis Wester,” Sheppard finished. “And ballet gives us Jared Padalecki.” 

They all greeted each other warmly, but Jensen was sure everyone was sizing up the competition just as he was. At least he could count on five friends in the group, and Osric and Felicia seemed like good people as well. He couldn’t remember ever feeling happier, or not for five years, anyway.

“Okay, settle down,” Traci called them to order and passed out envelopes to each of them. Jensen stared at his name written on the front of his in disbelief. There it was in black and white. “Here are your plane tickets home, and then back again in three weeks. Don’t lose them. In the packet, you will also find general information about the contest and how and when your friends and families can contact you once you return. There’s also a number you can call if you have any questions that aren’t on the list of frequently asked questions.”

Jensen hoped Jared was processing all of that information better than he was. Or maybe he should just read the packet. Later. When he wasn’t on cloud nine. 

“Someone will be contacting you in the next few days to get information to do a quick background check.” Rick continued, and Jensen’s ear picked up on that. Another thing to stress over, though he had no idea what he might have to be concerned about. They couldn’t take this away now, could they?

“Don’t worry,” Sheppard reassured them. “Unless one of you lied about something serious, like a felony or work permit, no one has anything to fear. It’s just stuff that legal makes us do.” 

And with that, they were dismissed, and the next thing Jensen knew, he was back in the airport with Jared and Sandy, just as they’d been the week before. Only now, they were returning triumphant. None of them could stop smiling. 

This time, waiting to board the plane was too exciting to be scary, and Jared couldn’t help ribbing Jensen about his panic on the way to L.A. Jared wasn’t alone any more. They’d seen Nicki off to her terminal, where she was heading back to New York. Brock was to accompany them to their terminal, but his flight to New Orleans left a good hour before theirs, so very soon they were on their own, still high with the excitement of getting into the live show.

“I can’t wait to tell my mom about things. She’s gonna be out of her mind.” Jensen was in the center of the row this time, and Sandy had the window seat, which left Jared on the aisle, and grateful for that fact.

“Not sure how my folks will feel.” Jared really didn’t want to think about his family just then. He knew Jeff would shrug his shoulders and tell him that he hoped he’d enjoyed his vacation, but that it was time to get to work if he wanted to amount to anything. As far as his family, he wasn’t anticipating joy from them. The most they’d ever shown him was antipathy. 

“You’re kidding!” Sandy looked horrified. “They’ve got to be on cloud nine for you.”

“Yeah. You don’t know my parents.” Jared’s mood had plummeted, and for the rest of the flight, he was pretty much lost in his own thoughts as his demons attacked him, making him second guess his desire to be on the show at all.

Back in Dallas, Sandy gave a squeal of joy as she spotted a tall, well-built man leaning up against the wall, waiting for her. Muttering a quick goodbye and see you later, she took a run up and jumped into his arms. The guy swung her around and swept her into a very passionate kiss, while Jensen watched with a smirk.

“Guess she’s got someone waiting to collect her,” murmured Jared.

“Nah.” Jensen was grinning now. “Never seen him before in her life.”

They were laughing, good mood restored, as they collected their bags and then made for the exit. 

“Let me give you a lift home.” Jared was starting to be afraid that all of this would end and that he’d find himself waking up to discover that it had all been a dream. Jensen, who had been about to go wait for a bus to take him into Dallas, gave him a sharp look. 

“Are you sure?” he said.

“Never been surer.” Jared stopped for a minute, and Jensen turned to raise quizzical eyebrows at him. “Listen, I’ve always been alone. I didn’t think I knew how to be anything else, but you...” He took a deep breath. “Somehow you’ve managed to break through that and show me how to make friends. I’m scared to go back to my...” He paused, searching for a way to express what he was feeling. “To my life,” he said at last. “I want... I want to be with you while I can.”

Jensen shook his head with a smile. “Okay. Come on then. Let’s go.”

Jensen’s house was a modest affair, and quite frankly it could use a coat of paint, Jared thought, but the front yard was neat, and there were a couple of trees to the sides that gave it almost a fairytale appearance.

As the cab drew up outside, Jared reflected that this was the first time he’d ever been invited to visit someone’s home. He was nervous and desperate to make a good impression.

The blonde girl he’d seen at the auditions opened the door before they had even pulled their bags out of the cab, and as Jared settled up with the driver, she gave an ear-splitting screech and hurled herself at Jensen.

“You’re here! OMG! What happened? Did you kill it? Are you in the show now? Can I have your autograph? You must've made the finals. Did you? Come on, tell me. Who’s this?” she said finally as she ran out of breath.

“For heaven’s sake, brat! Your tongue runs on wheels.” Jensen hugged her and then peeled her off him. “All will be revealed in due course. This is my buddy Jared. Say hello politely and don’t crowd him or you’ll scare him — if you didn’t already.”

He turned to Jared. “Come on in, man. Ignore the attack dog here. She’s harmless.”

Jared, who had been trying— and failing miserably— to imagine his elegant, fashion conscious sister greeting him like that, flashed the girl a smile and crowded a little closer to Jensen.

“Ignore him. I’m Mack, and I don’t know why I even put up with Stinky here.” She went back into the house, and Jensen rolled his eyes before towing Jared inside after her.

“Momma?”

“In here.” The voice was a soft drawl, and Jensen dumped his case in the hallway, indicating that Jared should do the same, then gripped him by the arm and pulled him into the room. Jared went, feeling somewhat shaky at the thought of the kind of scrutiny he was expecting.

“Hey, Momma.” Jensen knelt beside a slender blonde woman and kissed her cheek. “Allow me to introduce my pal Nureyev, aka Twinkletoes. He’s an awesome ballet dancer, but he lives here in Dallas.

“Jared Padalecki, ma’am,” Jared said, hurriedly, holding out his hand to her. “Jensen’s teasing, but I’m really happy to meet you.”

“Call me Donna, please.” Donna rose to her feet somewhat unsteadily and took his hand. “So Jensen met you in L.A.?” she asked. “How funny to go all the way there to meet someone from right here.”

“We actually met on the plane. Jared here was sitting right next to me, and we kind of got talking. He studies dance, and he really helped me when I hit a rough spot, and...” Jensen’s mother laughed and gestured for Jared to take a seat beside her on the couch. 

“You poor thing. Has he been chatting at you like that all week? You must be exhausted.” “Oh, no, ma’am.” Jared blushed. “He helped me out too. We had a terrific time.”

“So are you going to tell us?” Mack came in at that moment, carrying a tray with mugs, coffee, and a cake that looked like one of Mr. Beaver’s finest. “Are you going to be a star, or am I going to have to pay Consuela five dollars? She bet me that you’d be thrown out, but I told her you were gonna go through to the main show.”

“Mack!” Jensen looked horrified. “You didn’t! Five dollars is money we need for Mom’s pills and stuff.”

“Of course I did. I knew you’d get into the show.” Mack paused for a minute and then blurted out, “So did you?”

“Of course he did,” said Jared, when he saw the sneaky smile on Jensen’s face that meant he was going to string her along some more. 

“We both did.” Jensen grinned at his sister, who was trying to decide whether to jump for joy or smack him for making her wait. 

Donna intervened, smoothly. “Let’s remember that we have company, sweetie,” she said. “Jared, how do you like your coffee?”

For a moment, Jared toyed with the idea of admitting he wasn’t allowed coffee, and then he smirked. “Cream and two sugars, please,” he said. “It’s not considered good for ballet dancers, but Maverick here is gonna teach me to dance like him, so I need the caffeine!”

“If that’s the worst thing you ever do in your life, you’ll definitely go to heaven,” said Mack, giggling. 

“I know, right?” Jared laughed but then sobered up. “Is it really wrong of me not to want to go back to the school? Honestly, I was having so much fun doing all the different styles, and Jeff’s gonna hit me with his cane if I try any of the tricks I was doing in L.A.”

Mack shuddered. “You should stay here with us. You can dance with Jensen and not get hit with anything.”

“Whoa! Hold up there, sis. Maybe Jared doesn’t want to give up his ballet education and turn into a slug like me.” Jensen’s eyes were wide. “He’s got a chance of joining the Ballet Company here in Dallas. Why should he give that up?”

“Well, because he doesn’t have any fun?”

“You don’t know that...” At that point, Donna interrupted the two of them, with the ease of someone who obviously knew well what would happen if she didn’t.

“Peace, you two. Jared, why don’t you stay here for the night if you don’t mind sharing with Jensen.” Donna gave him a warm smile. “You can think about what you want to do and make your decision without missy here trying to pressure you. I’d love to see you dance, though. I wanted to do ballet so much when I was a girl.”

A thrill ran through Jared. Stay? With Jensen? He beamed at Donna. “That would be wonderful. I’ll admit, I wasn’t feeling positive about going back to the school. There’s no... I don’t know. No life in it. Thank you.” He fluttered his hands, unsure whether to hug her or pat her or what. “And I’ll dance for you any time.”

“You can’t give up everything you’ve achieved so far, Jay. I won’t let you.”

It was much later, and Jensen’s mom and sister had finally called it a night. Jared couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good time. Dinner had been roast chicken, cooked by Jensen with ham-fisted help from Jared, who started to peel potatoes, cut his thumb and decided that the skin was the most nutritious part anyway. Mack, who evidently had developed rather a crush on Jared, made salad, and everyone had sat in the living room to devour it, while watching some movies of Jensen when he was a kid. 

He’d noticed Jensen growing more and more introspective as the evening wore on until now he was just plain broody. It was something of a relief when he finally voiced what was bothering him.

“But dancing should be fun,” said Jared, frowning. “I’ve laughed more tonight here than I have at school over the whole of the past year. I want to learn what you do and have fun. Dancing should be fun, not a sacred quest for some holy grail.”

“I think it should be both.” Jensen rolled to his feet and turned to face him, hands on his hips as he formulated what he was trying to say. “Listen, you can come dance with my crew whenever, but I have to work, so I’m not available ’til mid-afternoon anyway. That’s when the crew gets together. I think you need to keep on with the ballet because you’re so beautiful when you dance. It’s like you don’t have to obey gravity any more. You can fly, or float. I could never do that. I don’t wanna be the one who dragged you down to earth.”

Jared gave Jensen his sweetest smile. “Okay, I guess. Here’s what we should do. I’ll go back to jail, and tomorrow, once you get out of work we’ll go get you a phone.”

“What do I need a phone for?” Jensen frowned. “I can’t afford a phone.”

“No, maybe not, but I can, and I want to.” He could see Jensen open his mouth to protest and carried on talking very quickly. “No. Just think about it. It’s not for you. It’s for me. It’s so you can call me if you get out of work, and you’re going to dance, so I can come. Most of my practice is in the mornings, so by afternoon, I’m bored, and I think it would be awesome. Besides...” He lowered his voice, wondering if he was being too frank. “I guess you noticed already, but I kind of like you. I want us to be together if we can.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Jensen still looked serious, “And...” He paused, a red stain rising from his neck to color his cheeks. “And I feel something too, but dude, this is Texas. We’d be likely to get our asses tarred and feathered if the crew got wind of my... my preferences.” He blinked back a tear that had welled up in the corner of his eye and reached to touch Jared’s cheek. “I want to,” he said.

“Oh, Jen.” Jared cupped Jensen’s face in his hands then bent and captured Jensen’s mouth with his own, all the longing he felt going into the kiss. He knew that Jensen wanted it as much as he did. He could feel the desire in Jensen’s taut body, but after a moment, he broke the caress and moved back.

“I’m a good guy. I won’t press at the moment, but please don’t cut me off completely. I want to get know you.” Jared fixed Jensen with his most imploring look. 

“How about we keep it cool until we’re back in L.A. for the show and talk about it then?” Jensen touched his lips where Jared’s had pressed against them. “’Til then, we have to keep it out of the limelight, k?”

Nodding, Jared allowed the knowledge that Jensen wanted him to fizz through his veins like tonic. He could wait for Jensen; he would wait. Three weeks wasn’t long. He could do it. It would hurt, but it would go by quickly.

“One more?” he implored, and Jensen lifted his face to meet Jared’s. “I never kissed anyone before,” he mumbled and found Jensen’s lips again.

Twelve days into the three weeks before they were due to return to L.A., and the days were dragging so badly, Jared thought time was actually starting to go backwards. He’d returned to school and resumed his studies, and Jeff was characteristically unimpressed by his achievement and merely commented that it would set back his studies an unacceptable amount if he wanted to get a place in the Corps de Ballet that fall.

He answered a call from his mother, who complained that he was vulgar. The auditions and elimination rounds in L.A. had begun to air, and Jared guessed she had seen the hip-hop routine with Jensen, Sandy and the others. He’d let her moan at him for several minutes, before finally snapping.

“Mom, I’m old enough to make my own choices. I’m not your puppet, and I’m going to learn every form of dance they can teach me, and I’m going to have a life.” He could hear his voice rising and took a couple of deep breaths, knowing that his mother would discard what he was saying if he lost his temper and shouted. “I’m going to go to L.A. I’m going to learn what I can. I’m going to win if I can, and I’m going to have a blast. If that offends you, I’m sorry. I kind of wish you cared enough about me to be happy for me, but if that isn’t the case, then I guess I’ll have to build my own family.”

He stopped talking, waited. He could hear his mother breathing, but she didn’t say anything. Shaking his head, he said, “Goodbye, mother,” and replaced the receiver.

Jeff, who had been listening, opened his mouth to tear Jared off a strip as he turned away from the phone, but Jared had had enough. “Mind your own business, Jeff. I’ve made up my mind, and I’m going on the show.”

As Jeff opened his mouth to protest, Jared pushed past him. “I’m going out,” he growled.

It was just after 1 p.m. when Jared knocked on the door of the house where Jensen lived. Mackenzie was in school, and Jensen was at work, but they weren’t the ones he’d come to see. Donna pulled the door open at his knock and gave him a warm, friendly smile. “Jared? Are you okay?”

“No ma’am. I’m pretty far from okay right now,” he said, and she stepped aside to let him pass her. 

“You’d better come in and tell me all about it,” she told him, closing the door again and following him down the hallway to the living room, leaning heavily on her walking frame.

Jared gave her a wan smile as she settled back into her recliner. “I was hoping you could give me some advice about my parents,” he said.

That, apparently, was the last thing that Donna expected. She looked surprised as she sat up a little in her chair. “I... Your parents?” she said.

“They don’t love me.” Jared shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t please them, and it doesn’t even seem as if there’s any point in trying anymore.” He drew a breath. “You’re proud of Jensen for getting into the finals, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” Donna’s eyes flashed, and it was obvious to Jared that she meant it. “Jensen has worked really hard to get there, and he’s never stopped taking care of me and his sister. He deserves this.”

“What happened to make him like that?” Jared was temporarily sidetracked as an opportunity to talk about Jensen showed itself.“He hasn’t ever said anything directly to me, but it feels like he’s somehow trying to atone for something terrible.”

Donna sighed. “Yeah. That’s just how it is. Jensen was only thirteen when the accident happened. We were returning from visiting my parents. Mack had elected to stay for a birthday party with one of her friends, so she wasn’t with us, and it was just the four of us. A truck ran the lights as we were on our way home and slammed into the side of us. Alan and Josh, his big brother, died instantly. I smashed my head against the side window and sustained a fractured skull. Jensen was the only one to emerge without serious injury. I’m pretty sure he feels guilty for being the one to walk away, and ever since then, he’s done everything he could to make up for it.”

Jared couldn’t help wondering if he’d have been the same if it had been his parents, and tried to picture his perfectly groomed mother using a walker and lounging around in a recliner. Both concepts defeated him. “That must have been horrible for all of you.”

“It was that,” Donna grinned. “Jen and Mack stayed with their grandparents for over a year. I was in a coma for the first little while, then paralyzed. My ability to move around is improving now, and I don’t often get the seizures I used to, but I still need medication and I’m still getting therapy. I owe him so much for that.”

“I was just wondering if I’d do the same for my parents, but it could never happen.” Wincing a little at the thought, he looked away, unable to meet Donna’s gaze. “Mom considers her parents to be less than socially acceptable, so I’ve only met them once, a long time ago, and as soon as they could, my parents sent me off to boarding school, so I guess I’m not socially acceptable either. I kind of wish I was.”

There was compassion in Donna’s eyes as she reached to touch his hand. “You should reach out to your grandparents, Jared, dear. I bet they’d be overjoyed to see you. If your mother has rejected them, they’re probably just as unhappy as you are about that. Where do they live?”

“Near Ferris, I think.” Jared looked excited as he tried to remember what he could about his lost relatives. “Grandpa has a ranch where he breeds and trains horses. I’ve never been, but I’ve seen him in the news once in a while. Mom always grumbles about him when that happens. I should... I should go see them.”

“I think you should,” Donna gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. “Nobody should be completely without family.”

“I knew you’d have the answer for me,” murmured Jared, squeezing back and smiling.

They both heard the key rattle in the lock, and Jared looked up as he heard Jensen’s voice.

“Mom? Hey, mom, are you ready for some...” As Jensen came into view, Jared felt the butterflies in his belly begin their struggle to invade his being.

Stopping short, Jensen looked between the two of them. “Jared?”

“It’s okay, Mav, I was just proposing to your mom, but she turned me down. She said I’m too young.” Jared could feel a flush starting as he gazed up at Jensen.

“Good for you, mom. He’s unseasoned. We need to teach him about life before he’ll be ready for marriage.” Jensen grinned. “I brought some chicken pies from work. They didn’t sell yesterday, but they’re really good. I know. I made them.”

“What are we waiting for?” Donna gave her son a sweet smile. “I think they would make a lovely lunch.”

“Oh, hey, Nureyev, Brock called.” Jensen was bubbling over with excitement. “He’s coming down to Dallas next week so he can travel back to L.A. with us. Sandy’s around too, so maybe we can all go dance with the crew before we go.”

“That would be cool.” Jared let go Jensen’s mom’s hand and followed Jensen into the kitchen. 

Jensen was expertly slicing up vegetables for salad and arranging the pies onto 4 plates. “Mack’s will go in the fridge for when she gets home,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you could do me a favor?” Jared felt unaccountably nervous, and Jensen turned to look at him in surprise. “I want to go visit my grandparents. Would you... could you come with me?”

“Me? Why?” Jensen looked puzzled. “Here, take this in to mom, would you?” He handed over the plate, cutlery and napkin.

“I’ve never met them, and it’s kind of scary,” said Jared as he took the food and turned to make the delivery.

“In that case, for sure. When do you want to go?”

“As soon as we eat, if that’s okay with you?” Jared’s heart was leaping, and he wanted to turn cartwheels. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone for the rest of his life. He had friends, he had family, and he even felt as if he had a surrogate mom to whom he could bring his troubles. Life was looking up.

The ride out to Ferris was, for the most part, completed in tense silence. Jared could see Jensen watching him with a frown on his face out of the corner of his eye. They’d been on the road for some time before Jensen cleared his throat.

“So why now?” he said.

“I was talking to your mom.” Jared bit his lip. “She’s so nice, and you guys have the best relationship ever. I was kind of wishing I could have something like that. That’s really why I went to see her. I thought that maybe she’d know how to make me feel better, and, hey, she did!”

The navigation system in Jared’s car suddenly announced that their destination was on the left, and Jared turned into a long driveway that led past a red painted barn to come to a standstill outside a well-kept ranch house. For a few minutes, he sat still, unsure about how to proceed now that he was actually here. Jensen reached over and squeezed his knee.

“Come on, Nureyev. You can do this.”

Nodding, Jared pushed the car door open and reluctantly stood up. Jensen followed and put his hand on the small of Jared’s back, turned him and guided him to the front porch before falling back to stand behind him.

Jared was just about to raise his hand to ring the doorbell when the door flew open and a little lady who looked very much like his mother stared at him with wide eyes.

“Hello?” she said.

“Uh... hi.” Jared felt Jensen poke a bony finger into his back and took a deep breath. “I’m... I’m Jared,” he said. “You probably don’t remem—”

“Oh, my goodness! Jared!” A beam split his grandmother’s face. “Of course I remember you. Come in.” She beckoned them both inside. “I have to call your grandfather. What brings you here? My, you’re so tall. The last time I saw you, I was taller than you. Whatever have they been feeding you?”

Jared let the questions wash over him and didn’t attempt to answer, just basking in the notion that he wasn’t being rejected out of hand. Finally, Jensen stepped forward and offered his hand to her.

“Sorry to intrude. I’m his friend Jensen, and he brought me along as a security blanket or something, because he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome.”

“Welcome? Of course you’d be welcome, honey. It’s so nice to see you after all these years.” She gestured for them to take a seat and picked up the phone that was on the side table next to her chair. “I’m just calling Poppa. He’ll probably burn rubber getting back up here.”

Jared still looked a little overwhelmed by the reception he’d had, and Jensen flashed him an encouraging smile. Meanwhile his grandmother had disappeared through into the kitchen, or at least that’s what it sounded like, from the clatter of dishes that resulted. A few moments later she returned with a tray that was loaded with cookies and glasses of sweet tea.

“There, now,” she said. “Tell me what brings you to Ferris.”

“I’m at school in Dallas,” said Jared. “And I thought it would be nice to meet you. I kind of get lonely sometimes.”

His grandmother sighed. “You were always at boarding school, weren’t you? I used to wonder why Sharon didn’t keep you closer to home, but I was never really able to discuss it with her. You must be over school age now, though?”

“I’m at the Morgan School of Ballet at the moment.” Jared gave her a tentative smile, waiting to see how that would go down. “I’ve got a position with the Corps in the Dallas Ballet Company in September, but I’m also going to be on TV in a few weeks, on ‘Born to Dance.’ We both are. I don’t know if you’ve seen it?”

“Seen it?” she gazed at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, my lord I love that show!”

They heard a door open in the kitchen just then, and a moment later, Jared turned to see his grandfather standing in the doorway behind them. Rising to his feet he turned to look at him and was astonished to find himself pulled into a tight hug.

“Hey there!” The man’s voice was gruff. “We’ve often wondered if any of Sharon’s kids would come find us. Welcome, young man. Now which one are you?”

“Jared?”

“You asking me or telling me?” The old man let out a brief chuckle. “Okay, Jared, good to see ya! You planning on staying around?”

“Aaron, Jared and his friend are going to be on TV,” announced Jared’s grandmother. “They’re dancers.”

“Well, isn’t that a surprise?” Aaron helped himself to a couple of cookies and sprawled himself in one of the overstuffed armchairs. “I wonder what Sharon would say about that!”

“She actually phoned me about it, and I had a big argument with her.” Jared shrugged as all of his previous feelings of isolation returned in full force. “I think I’m probably persona non grata at home now, but I told her I wasn’t going let her to dictate my life for me the way she does for Jeff and Megs. I was feeling pretty lonely and cut off, and that’s why I came to visit. I was hoping I still had some family left.”

“Of course you do, honey.” That was Grandma. “We’re so happy to meet you at last. I hope we’re going to see a whole lot more of you.”

By the time the visit was over, Jared was feeling happier than he had for as long as he could remember. He had family that cared about him. He was going to be in a show that would demonstrate his abilities to the world, and he’d earned that himself. Best of all, Jensen was right there beside him, and he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Jared was feeling on top of the world as he waited for Brock to emerge from the secure zone at the airport. They were heading back to L.A. the following day. He’d kept his word to Jensen, but tomorrow they would be away from Texas with all the prying eyes and able to see if there was anything more between them than just hormones. He had family that cared about him, that followed his career and that was supporting him in his need to expand his horizons. In short, he was happy for the first time since he could remember.

“Yo, Nureyev!” Brock’s voice broke him out of his daydream, and he turned to see the other man hurrying towards him, shoving a baggage cart in front of him.

“Hey! Good to see you.” Jared hurried to take hold of some of Brock’s belongings while his visitor grabbed hold of the rest. “I see you passed your security check,” he said with a grin.

“Yep. The bodies haven’t been discovered yet,” said Brock. “Jen not with you?”

“He doesn’t get off work ’til two, so you get to hang out with me until then.” Jared led the way out to the parking lot and popped the trunk of his car. Seconds later, they were on their way out and down into Dallas.

Stopping for lunch at Ojeda’s gave the two of them time to catch up, and soon they were chatting like old friends as Brock related how his girlfriend had broken up with him over going on the show. “She said I would leave her behind,” he said, rolling his eyes. “How do you answer that? I mean it doesn’t even make sense, does it? It’s not like she couldn’t have entered for the auditions herself, is it?”

“Women!” Jared shook his head, secretly thanking his maker that the only woman he really felt any affection for other than his newly discovered grandma, was Donna Ackles.

By the time lunch was over, it was past two, and Jensen was off work. As they arrived at the mall, Jared could see the crew already assembled, although Jensen hadn’t yet arrived. Sandy had come down with her boyfriend, whose name turned out to be Jordan, and who — according to both himself and Sandy— had two left feet and couldn’t even two-step. 

Some of the guys began to freestyle, and passers-by paused on their way to other places to watch their antics. Jared didn’t care. The one he was waiting for hadn’t arrived and until he did, Jared felt only half alive, a clockwork toy waiting for someone to wind him up.

It was another half hour or so before Jensen came strolling around the corner, familiar cap on backwards and his arm firmly around the waist of the slender redhead. Jared could feel himself come alive as the two of them approached. The pair who had been doing hand spins and somersaults paused to greet him and several people high fived him as he reached the group. Brock elbowed Jared. 

“Dude, that hurt!” Jared shoved at him.

“Well, you were off in a world of your own,” Brock smirked. “I just want to know about the chick Jen’s with.”

“Oh, that’s Danneel,” growled Jared, choking out her name. He knew that Jensen was gay, but it didn’t help him one little bit, because every time Jared saw him with the redhead — he refused to call her by name in his head — he couldn’t help feeling that she would win in a fight for his affections.

“Is she... I mean, does Jensen have first dibs on her?”

“You mean are they a thing?” Jared shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t think so, but check with her, because I’m told that women like to make these decisions.”

“What decisions?” Jensen had reached them and dropped to sit on the step next to Brock. Danneel was below him on the steps, apparently sneaking peeks at their visitor.

“Brock here was just admiring your lady friend,” said Jared. “I think he’s gonna fight you for her. I was just telling him that girls like to make the call without pressure from the testosterone side of the blanket.”

Snorting, Jensen beckoned Danneel closer, and she came to join them. 

“Danni? This here’s Brock, and he seems to want to fight for you. What do you think?”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” protested Brock. “Although...” He winked at Danneel, who laughed and punched Jensen in the belly, doubling him up.

“Facts straight, Ackles. It’s disheartening to hear untruths from your lips after all I’ve taught you.” She turned to Brock, openly appraising him. “I don’t condone fighting. How about you dance for me instead?”

“Done.” Brock got up amid cheers and catcalls from the crew and went down to where the mats were laid out. Someone turned on the radio, and he launched into something that could have been a hip-hop routine. Sandy, who had been watching the interplay, suddenly gave a whoop and ran down to join him. 

Jensen turned to Jared with flashing eyes. “Remember that first choreography you pulled me through?” At Jared’s nod, Jensen grabbed his hand and towed him down to join in with the other two, calling out the moves as they went. The four of them slipped into the routine without really slowing down, and by the end of it, the crew were all whooping and hollering. Danneel slowly came down the stairs and reached Brock. “Why don’t you buy me a chai latte, and we can talk about how I can bring meaning into your life?” With that, she grabbed his elbow and towed him off with her towards the mall.

There had been a whole lot of money deposited by the audience as the four were dancing, and Jared held out the can to Jensen. “Good start to the day, Jen.”

“The best.” Jensen beamed at him and then hollered up at the others. “Okay. Which one of you figures he can beat that?”

Resuming his place on the steps, Jared gazed out at the crew who were taking it in turns to tumble across the mats. He drew in a deep breath when he noticed Jeffrey standing, watching, and wondered just how long he’d been there, but after a few minutes his teacher drifted away, and Jared turned his attention back to the party that was just beginning. 

Danneel was out of his way— if she'd ever even presented a threat outside his thoughts — he would be on his way back to L. A. the following day, and he had friends all around him. How could life be better?

The following day, everyone was up early, way too pumped to sleep any more. Jared was in the studio by five, going through his stretches and one last lesson before taking the plane. Jeff had mentioned to him that he’d watched the four of them doing their hip-hop routine and grudgingly allowed that he’d enjoyed it. “You gonna make me proud, son?” He asked as Jared emerged from the shower following his practice session. 

“Gonna do my best, sir,” he replied. “I want to be the best. Can’t be the best if I can only do one discipline. I wish my parents understood that.”

“They will — or they won’t. Don’t let it hold you back.” Jeff nodded. “You’ve got a future, kiddo. Even I know that.”

Somewhat surprised, Jared nodded. “Okay, then,” said Jeff, clearing his throat. “Let’s go get the rest of them and get you to the plane.”

When they reached Jensen’s house, Jensen was pretty much bouncing on the balls of his feet. Brock, on the other hand, was looking as though there was not enough sleep in the world. “He finally came back to me at around 2 a.m.,” grumbled Jensen. “I’m questioning his morals!”

“I’m a young, healthy boy!” Brock smiled sleepily and then yawned. 

“Don’t look too healthy to me,” muttered Jeff, who was driving the van. 

“Plenty of time to sleep on the plane.” Brock yawned again. “She was worth it. I can’t wait to come back here and do it all over again.”

The run out to the airport was uneventful. The three of them thanked Jeff, who wished them the best of luck, and then drove away.

“So this is it,” murmured Jared. “Make or break.”

Jensen was quiet on the way to the airport. He didn’t know what to think of Jared’s ballet coach driving them. Last he had heard, he wasn’t any more supportive of Jared’s dreams than his parents were. And a month ago, he’d expected to be riding the bus as he usually did, and here Brock had spent $100 to rebook his ticket from Dallas instead of New Orleans just so he could fly with them. Jensen had no idea what was going on with any of it. It really was a completely different world that the other three dancers apparently lived in. 

Jensen wondered if perhaps he was reaching too far, or if he truly had a shot in this competition. All his life, particularly since the accident, he’d seen other people get ahead in life, but try as hard as they might, his family couldn’t seem to catch a break. He was just thinking that he was wasting his time and should just go home now when Jared nudged his shoulder and grinned at him. Jensen returned the smile without thinking, heart suddenly lighter. He’d made the top twenty, Julian and the other judges thought he had something, the other dancers thought he was good, and most importantly, Jared believed in him. He deserved to be there as much as any of them, and he determined right there and then to stop the negative thinking. So what if he hadn’t been training since he could walk and didn’t have the best coaches and formal experience? He’d never let any disadvantage slow him down before, and he wasn’t about to start now. 

His third airplane trip was so much different from the first. The first time he had been alone; today he had friends with him. Didn’t make him any less nervous about flying though. He tried not to think about the physics of a tin can flying through the air with him trapped inside. Fortunately, Jared was right there beside him and didn’t seem to mind Jensen clutching his arm when they hit the inevitable pockets of turbulence. Jared responded by taking his hand and threading their fingers together. Suddenly Jensen realized the tone of their relationship had completely changed. He’d asked for time, to not start anything until they left Texas. And now they were on the way back to L. A. He was sure from Jared’s demeanor that he recognized the change as well. Jensen smiled and leaned his head on Jared’s shoulder, soaking in Jared’s strength and confidence. 

Despite Jared’s comforting presence, the flight couldn’t end soon enough for Jensen. It’s not that he was claustrophobic, just that he hated being trapped. Ever since the accident, when he had been trapped in the car with his family, not knowing if any of them were still alive… He stopped that train of thought in its tracks and turned to Jared, “Are we there yet?”

It was the only thing he could think of to say, and predictably Jared laughed and squeezed his hand. “Still don’t like flying?”

“We don’t have time to drive,” Jensen answered. “And I know it’s practically the safest way to travel.”

“Doesn’t mean you like it,” Jared said. Jensen smiled at him and nodded. One more way that Jared just got him, like no one ever had before. 

To Jensen’s relief, the captain turned on the seatbelt sign and his voice came over the intercom, announcing their descent into LAX. He stowed the book he’d not been reading while he chatted with Jared and fastened his belt, eager to get off the plane.

Jensen was getting good at the whole airport thing. The whole process of disembarking the plane, walking through the terminal and collecting their baggage was becoming familiar. A driver collected the five of them and took them back to their hotel. It was a different hotel this time, smaller than the old one. Their group took up one wing of the second floor. Jensen was glad there was still an empty room that he and Jared could share. Sandy and Nicki were sharing too, but Brock ended up with Travis, and Jensen was pretty sure he wouldn’t be spending much time there. 

They’d barely gotten their bags in the room before a handler called them for dinner. Jensen would never get used to that. He’d always looked after himself, and having someone whose only job was to make sure they were where they needed to be when they needed to be there was odd. That and housekeeping cleaning their room and meals being catered. It was all so strange to him. 

A few stragglers came in toward the end of the meal, but they’d already eaten. Once all the dancers were there, Sheppard came in and announced that they’d be meeting in another conference room to find out the style for the first week and who their partners would be. Jensen hoped he’d be paired with Nicki or Sandy, but he doubted he’d be that lucky. Probably wouldn’t be Felicia either since their styles were the same. Hopefully it wouldn’t be any of that snobby clique led by Genevieve Cortese. Jensen began to be nervous all over again. 

Turned out that it was Jared paired with Genevieve. Jensen felt a tinge of guilt over being relieved it wasn’t him. But Jared could handle her. Jensen drew Katharine Isabelle, a ballroom dancer who seemed nice enough. Brock was paired with Emily Perkins, one of Genevieve’s crowd. Sandy was paired with Chad Murray, a squinty-eyed kid with dark blond hair, who thought he was a hip-hop dancer. Not any kind of hip-hop Jensen had ever seen, but he guessed the guy had _some_ swag. Nicki drew Travis Wester, the weird tapper with an annoying habit of hanging around their group, obviously eavesdropping, but walking away trying to pretend he hadn’t been whenever they’d tried to include him.

Jared and Genevieve got hiphop with a choreographer they’d not met yet, whose name was Tahmoh Penikett. Jensen and Katharine were doing jazz with Kane. Sandy and Chad were learning the smooth waltz with another choreographer they hadn’t met named Sebastian Roché. Nicki and Travis were doing hip-hop with Julian. And Brock and Emily were doing contemporary with Traci. Jensen wasn’t sure he was looking forward to working with Kane again so soon; his comments from the first rehearsal still stung. But it could be worse; he could be stuck with Traci. That rehearsal had been even more disastrous for him. Hopefully Brock would be okay with Traci and that bitch Emily. All in all, Jensen felt like he’d come out okay. Hopefully the rest of their group could get through despite their less favorable partnerships. 

They were all sitting around Jensen and Jared’s room chatting. Jensen was glad Jared was a reasonably neat person. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand the mess that was the girls’ room. Looked like a hurricane had gone through. And Travis … totally the opposite, very OCD with his socks sorted from light to dark and everything lined up just so. Jensen was glad he didn’t have to deal with him either. Jensen was quite content with his roommate, even apart from him being his boyfriend. Wait, what? _Boyfriend_? Wow! Is that what they were? Boyfriends? He quite liked that idea and decided to ask Jared about it later. 

“Earth to Jensen,” Brock called to him. 

Jensen just about jumped out of his skin. Clearly he’d been woolgathering for longer than he’d thought. “What?”

“Who’s your partner?” Brock asked. “That girl Kathleen or whatever? She’s the one with all the questions, yeah?”

“Katharine,” Jensen answered. “And right now, you’re the one with all the questions.”

“So,” Brock pressed. “What do you think of her?”

“She seems nice enough. It’s not like I’ve ever really talked to her.” Jensen shrugged. “What about you guys?”

“I’ve got Chad Murray,” Sandy answered. “I don’t know much about him either.”

“Emily Perkins,” Brock said. “She’s one of Genevieve’s set. I think they may be more arrogant than I was.” 

“Yeah,” Jared laughed. “I think so too. And I’ve actually got Genevieve for a partner.”

“Have fun with that.” Jensen teased, grateful it wasn’t him that had to deal with either of them.

“Shut up,” Jared groused. “What about you, Nicki?”

“I drew Travis Wester,” Nicki answered. “He’s odd, but mostly harmless, I think.”

“Oh, no, Nicki!” Brock exclaimed. “He’s my roommate, and he’s more than just odd.”

“As long as he can dance,” Nicki shrugged. “I don’t care how odd he is.” 

“I don’t remember him from callbacks,” Sandy said.

“He’s a tapper,” Jared said.

“But can he dance?” Nicki repeated. 

“He’s okay, I guess.” Jared said. “For a tapper.”

“With such a glowing recommendation,” Nicki laughed. “How could I be worried?” Jensen was getting tired and really wished that everyone wasn’t hanging out in their room. He also wanted time with Jared, without all the others around. He looked at his watch, wondering what he should say to hint to the others that they should call it a night. Jared obviously noticed and bailed him out.

“Hey guys,” Jared said. “It’s getting late, and we have an early call tomorrow.”

The others straggled out, muttering and groaning about the unfairness of the early hour and the horrible partnerships and seemingly everything else to do with the rehearsals tomorrow. Jensen just didn’t get it: this was a dream come true for him, but the others seemed to dread everything about it. Jensen couldn’t wait to get started. Or maybe he could, going by the look in Jared’s eye. 

“It’s good to be back and all,” Jared said. “But I thought they’d never leave.”

Now that they were finally alone, Jensen didn’t quite know how to act. It didn’t appear that Jared did either. Jensen had seen his mates go through this for years, but he’d never been interested in fawning over the girls as had always been expected. This thing with Jared had caught him by surprise. He hadn’t known he could feel like this. But if Jensen didn’t do something, they’d likely keep standing there, staring at each other in awkward silence. 

Jensen caught Jared’s hand and stepped into his personal bubble, tilting his head up and kissing him. If he’d thought about it, he might have thought it should feel odd kissing someone taller than him. He was over six feet tall, after all. But Jared was a couple of inches taller, and if anything, it just felt right. Jared tentatively licked across the seam of Jensen’s lips, and Jensen opened his mouth on a gasp. A tingling feeling sped through his body like an electric shock, and Jensen realized he was overthinking this. 

Jensen was keenly aware of Jared’s strong, very masculine body against his. His own body responded immediately, and he deepened the kiss. Jared responded in kind, rapidly escalating the intensity. But all too soon, Jared drew back and rested his forehead against Jensen’s. 

“So,” Jared started. “We’re doing this then.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Jensen still reveled in the feel of Jared’s long, lean form against his. 

“No,” Jared answered. “I guess not. But you did ask me to wait, so I wasn’t completely sure.”

“And I appreciate you waiting.” Jensen drew in a breath, pressing on, determined to open himself up, to leave himself vulnerable. He’d seen all too many relationships founder because both parties were too afraid of being hurt. He really didn’t want that to happen to them. “But this isn’t Texas, and I really want to find out where this can go.”

“Good,” Jared sighed, apparently greatly relieved. “So do I.”

“But we do actually have a long day tomorrow.” Jensen pressed another kiss to Jared’s lips, more chaste this time, a promise of things to come. “I’d hate for either of us to ruin our chance in the competition. We have as long as we need to explore this.” 

“You’re right,” Jared agreed, finally pulling away from Jensen. “I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Jensen couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he brushed his teeth and readied himself for bed. With the first rehearsal with Katharine tomorrow, and the promise of his budding relationship with Jared, it wasn’t any wonder he couldn’t stop smiling. 

The rehearsal with Kane was much as he’d expected. Kane was as foul-mouthed and impatient as ever, but without Jared there to bear the brunt of his ill humor, Jensen didn’t mind it as much. He was pleasantly surprised by Katharine’s dancing. He’d never had any reason to specifically watch her before, but he thought they would complement each other well. Until the show decided to change up the partnerships, anyway. 

This jazz routine was all upbeat and bouncy. Watching the scowling Christian Kane demonstrating the moves was pretty funny, particularly the jazz hands. They didn’t dare laugh, though. Jensen had learned the lesson well and didn’t worry about the names for the dance elements but emulated the moves as they were demonstrated. He was surprised how quickly the terms were becoming familiar and associated in his mind with the correct steps. He didn’t have time to settle into a rhythm though, before Kane started berating him. 

“Fucking pretty boy! Pay attention! Your bounce is all wrong. Like this!” Kane proceeded to demonstrate a section that looked more like something cheerleaders might do at halftime than a serious dance routine. And the incongruity of Kane bouncing around with his hair tied at the nape of his neck, the tail bouncing in counterpoint nearly set him off again. He was sure Kane wouldn’t appreciate that, so he swallowed back the laughter, choking on it and triggering a massive coughing fit. 

“If you’re quite finished, pretty boy,” Kane said sarcastically. Katharine shot him a sympathetic look, with just a hint of laughter in her eyes. “We can get on with our rehearsal.” 

The morning seemed to last forever, but eventually it was lunch time. They would start working on the group routine that afternoon, and Jensen was quite happy to get away from Kane until the following morning. He went searching for Jared, who was just coming out of his practice room, laughing and chatting with a tall, handsome man who must be their choreographer, Tahmoh. The easy camaraderie between them sent a sick feeling to the pit of Jensen’s stomach. He trusted Jared, he really did, but this thing with them was so new. And he really did not like the way Tahmoh was looking at Jared. 

Jensen put a brave face on it and tried to smile at Jared like he normally did. Apparently he wasn’t entirely successful because Jared knocked his shoulder into Jensen’s, asking, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jensen answered. “Just Kane teaching us this peppy jazz routine. Trying not to laugh at the little ponytail bouncing at the back of his head.”

“That must be fun,” Jared commiserated. “And I’m sure he reacted to your amusement very well.”

“Yeah,” Jensen smiled, relieved that Jared seemed just the same with him. “Not so much.”

“Could you help me with my routine this evening?” Jared asked. “The groove or rhythm or swag or whatever the hell is different than what you showed me, and I can’t seem to get it. And Tahmoh uses that as an excuse to try to show me how to move with his hands on my hips … and I’d just as soon we put a stop to that.”

“I’d be happy to.” Jensen slung his arm around Jared’s neck and towed him along toward the lunch room. “We can’t have your choreographer manhandling you.”

At that point Sandy joined them, asking, “Who’s manhandling who?”

“Jared’s choreographer seems to have an unseemly interest in Jared’s hip action,” Jensen teased. 

“At least it’s not his partner,” Sandy noted. “Chad has his hands all over me. It’s a waltz; his hand should rest lightly at my waist, not groping me.”

“You want me to say something to him?” Jensen offered protectively. “Yeah,” Jared agreed. “We’ll get him to knock it off.”

“I can handle him,” Sandy answered. “Thanks anyway, though.”

The rest of the week flew by, and before he knew it, Monday came around, and it was time for their performances. It was the first live show where the viewers could call in and vote. Jensen expected he should be nervous, but oddly enough, he wasn’t. The only thing he really noted about the whole night was Jared’s performance. He and Jensen had figured out Tamoh’s lyrical groove together, and Jared nailed the routine. Jared’s partner Genevieve didn’t do nearly so well, and Jensen was afraid she might end up going home until he saw Dylan and Madison’s lackluster Broadway routine. 

Tuesday was results night. Jensen and Jared, along with Brock and Nicki, were quickly pronounced safe. Sandy was safe, but her partner Chad was in the bottom. Jared’s partner Genevieve was also in the bottom, along with Nicki’s partner Travis, Osric’s partner Brit and the youngsters Dylan and Madison. 

Chad received a tongue lashing from Sheppard about paying more attention to providing a strong frame for his partner and less trying to cop a feel before he was directed to join the other safe dancers. Genevieve was told to pay less attention to her image and try to find the emotion in the dance before she was pronounced safe. Brit, Madison, Travis and Dylan danced for their lives before, predictably, Madison and Dylan were sent home. 

Their little group had scarcely known the youngsters, but it was a sobering moment for all of them. Even though the two had clearly been the weakest dancers, it underscored the concept that each week, someone would go home and the dream would end for them. They all gathered around the departing dancers, sending them off with smiles and tears. 

Dancing live in front of an audience had disconcerted Jared, and he had mentioned that to his new partner, Genevieve, who had just studied him minutely and then snorted in disbelief. They were rehearsing their next routine, and while it was a routine neither of them found particularly challenging, he found himself making mistakes because Genevieve was really not partnering with him. She lost no opportunity to complain about missed steps, although she missed quite a few of her own, and Jared found himself simmering with poorly repressed annoyance at her attitude, not only towards him but towards Jensen too.

The two of them were rehearsing their second round dance, which was a contemporary routine that Traci was choreographing, and Jensen, who was in the middle of learning a very energetic Bollywood routine with Katharine, had come to find him to go for dinner. 

Genevieve had instantly tensed up, and Jared could tell that there was something different in her attitude. 

“What’s your problem?” he hissed.

“Don’t you know he’s a queer?” she said, in a voice loud enough for not just Jared, but also for Jensen and Katharine to hear.

“You have a problem with that?” asked Jared, looking at her in astonishment.

“Don’t you?” She rolled her eyes. 

“Quite truthfully, it would be sad if I did. You see, he’s my boyfriend.”

That was the first time Jared had said the words out loud, and when Jensen came closer and threw one arm around his neck to plant a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek, he suddenly realized that Jensen didn’t mind. Traci, however, who had been toweling off her face in one corner, stepped forward. “We gays need to band together,” she said with a smirk. 

After that, Jared found it really hard to dance with Genevieve, who didn’t speak to him, and who became stiffer and less willing with every rehearsal.

They made it through the performance on show night and said goodbye to Brit Sheridan and Chad Rook, who were sent home after a rather uncoordinated jive routine, but Jared really wasn’t holding out much hope for their continued relationship once he saw what they’d drawn next.

Sebastian Roché was the ballroom dance king. They’d drawn a quickstep, which was well known as the stumbling block for many a participant in previous seasons of ‘Born to Dance,’ and Sebastian, although suave and courtly in manner, was a very hard taskmaster. He’d given them a truly difficult routine to master and constantly demanded that they gaze lovingly at each other.

“This is a dance for happy lovers. Keep your carriage straight, and for heaven’s sake, look as if you’re enjoying yourself. Jared, heel down first, not toe, and for Pete’s sake, try to stop looking at each other as though you’re suffering disembowelment!”

Jensen, who was facing his first contemporary routine, found the whole thing rather amusing and after hearing about Sebastian’s rant, actually came to ask Genevieve if she’d been disemboweled yet or if her inability to smile at Jared was just constipation.

That was never going to end well, and Jared knew as soon as the two of them took to the stage that their performance was dire.

The night before the results show was due to be taped, Jensen, who up until then had been putting everything he had into his own routine, and who had spent pretty much every waking moment in one of the studios with Katharine, making sure that he wouldn’t be caught out the way he had been during the auditions, actually came to drag him out of the bar, where he was sitting, feeling sorry for himself over a glass of something orange that had what seemed a whole store’s worth of fruit and umbrellas bristling in it.

“Fuck, Nureyev, what the hell is that thing?” Jensen pointed in disbelief at Jared’s glass.

“It’s a ‘Safe Sex on the Beach,’ and it’s disgusting.” Jared put his head in his hands and sighed. “I’m gonna have to go home because of that bitch, aren’t I?”

“That’s not a given. Tomorrow, if you have to dance, you’re gonna slay the judges with your solo, and I’m here to help you do that.” Jensen grabbed Jared’s drink and knocked it back in one long swig. “God, you’re right about one thing. That _is_ disgusting,” he said. “Come on.”

Grabbing Jared’s hand, he tugged him out of the bar and back to their room, kissed him hard and sat him down on one of the chairs by the desk in their room. “Okay. What are you going to do for your solo if you do have to dance for your life? You're going to need to make it totally awesome. I can’t lose you. We haven’t even gotten to second base yet.”

“Dunno.” Jared drooped again, and Jensen placed his palms against Jared’s cheeks and turned up his face, kissing him slow and sweet. “Get through this, and tomorrow we’ll celebrate.” “What kind of celebrate?” Jared looked up at him. 

“I dunno. Whatever you like.” Jensen grinned. “Hey, maybe we could go dancing or something!”

“Shut up, ass!” Jared smiled back at him despite himself. “So if you were me, what would you do for a solo?”

“Jeez, I dunno.” Jensen frowned for a minute. “Maybe something funny. I’d want to grab their attention. It’s not just about being an awesome dancer — it’s about being an entertainer. You need everyone to enjoy, not just marvel.”

Jared frowned. “There’s only one thing that might make people laugh, but I don’t know if I can do it in time.”

“What is it?” Jensen stood back as Jared rose to pull his computer to him and open it. 

“I’ve been practicing en pointe, and guys don't usually use points. Check this out.” He opened up a browser and typed in a couple of words to Google, then turned the computer towards Jensen.

On the screen was a ballerina— or was it? It was certainly dressed as the Swan, and the music was right, but the dancer... Jensen peered closer. “Is that you?”

“No, not me, but I could do something like that,” replied Jared. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” Jensen was mentally working something out in his head. He finally looked up at Jared again as the dance ended. “You can’t do ‘The Swan’. I remember you did that for your audition. You got anything else?”

Rummaging through his suitcase, Jared produced a single pointe shoe. It was made from red leather and must have been hand crafted because, to put it bluntly, Jared’s feet were not exactly small. Jensen began to cackle as he checked it out, and for a minute, he didn’t seem to notice Jared’s growing distress as he tossed things out of his case onto the floor.

”Oh, no! I’ve lost the other one. I’ve left it at home.” Jared could feel the tears well up as he surveyed his single shoe and didn’t at first react when Jensen put a hand on his arm.

“Hey! It’s okay, dude, in fact, it’s even better.” His voice was soft, and Jared looked up to meet his eyes.

“How is it better?” he snapped.

“Listen. You’re going to tell a story, and you’re gonna make everyone laugh.” Jensen lifted his hands as he began to describe the scene he was picturing. “You’re a tender young maiden, getting ready to go out for a walk or whatever, and something startles you. Maybe evil Sir Jasper is after your virginity or something, but you’re going to pretend to be reaching for your other shoe when you hear him, and you react, then you run away, and you dance with the one shoe, so sometimes you’re hopping on one foot and sometimes you’re twirling around on your pointy shoe thing, right? You think that would work?”

It took a moment for Jared to get the hang of what Jensen was suggesting, and then, all of a sudden, he smiled. “It would be really slapstick, and I am going to have to work really hard to sell myself as a tender maiden without any props, but I think I can do it.”

Checking his watch, he nodded to himself. “Might as well spend an hour trying it out. That way, when the worst happens I'll be prepared. Come on, master choreographer.” Grabbing hold of Jensen’s arm and twirling the shoe by its laces, he headed down to find a rehearsal space.

The following morning there was no time to dwell on things because the whole troupe was rehearsing for the group dance that would begin the night’s show. Jared managed to snatch a couple of minutes after lunch to go through his dance one last time, but then it was back to group rehearsal, and following that, the actual performances.

Just as he’d expected, he and Genevieve found themselves having to dance for their lives, along with Chad Michael Murray, Travis Wester and their partners, Sandy and Nicki.

By the time his performance was called, Jared was in the zone. He shut out everything and everybody around him and concentrated on the steps he would make, ensuring that they were as perfect as if he were a soloist with the Bolshoi.

When the MC introduced him, he could feel himself pull on a mantle of coy femininity. When he tiptoed on the stage and bent to tie on the single pointe, he was vaguely aware of the audience murmuring, but then the music kicked in, and he was away. He covered the stage, leaping as if to run without ever leaving the spot, spinning and twirling and finally sinking into a heap. The audience, which had been laughing uproariously, gave him a round of applause the like of which he’d never thought would be for him. The judges had risen to their feet to applaud him, and Traci, who was the sole female on the day’s panel, seemed to be crying because she was laughing so hard. 

He curtseyed with a dimpled smile and left the stage so that Travis could come and go through his solo routine.

Cuts to commercial were always stressful, and this one virtually drove him out of his mind. The judges were in a huddle, and Jared was convinced that he was facing the axe and that his attempt at humor was misguided.

Finally, the six of them were summoned back on stage. Both Sandy and Nicki clung to him, while Genevieve said nothing, but if looks could kill, he’d have been stretched lifeless on the stage.

Nicki was told to go and sit down, and Jared gave her a squeeze before she left to join the others in the audience. 

Sandy was told to feel the dance rather than just performing the steps, and finally, Genevieve was told that it was the end of the road. It was evident that she wasn’t happy, and if the glare she gave Jared meant anything, she’d be taking him to task later. Then it was time to step forward and hear the verdict on his own performance.

“Jared, we were all surprised to see you here in the bottom three, because you are technically perfect, but we thought that you maybe didn’t have the soul to bring your dance to life. Your solo just revealed that you have that and more. Go sit down. You’re through to the next round.”

The only words of that Jared heard were, “You’re through,” and he nodded miserably, thinking he’d go pack and get out of there before he saw Jensen and cried all over him. It was only when he got off the stage and heard Mark Pellegrino sending Chad home that he realized what Sheppard had actually said to him. Then he was buried under an avalanche of the other competitors hugging him, kissing him and generally telling him how awesome he was. 

That evening, once the show had concluded, Jensen took Jared’s hand and dragged him up to their room. “Come on, dude, you and me have something to do.”

Back in the room, Jensen closed the door behind them and stood looking at Jared, eyes full of something that made him hold his breath.

There was a hummingbird fluttering in his chest, and he suddenly found that he couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. Jensen stepped forward. (‘Step forward, Jensen!’ sounded the voice in his head, British tones of Mark Sheppard.)

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” muttered Jensen, half to himself. “But I’m a quick learner, and I’ve been waiting for this.”

One hand went to cup Jared’s hip and the other rose up to cradle Jared’s jaw. The two stood for a moment, and then Jared gave a small moan, and Jensen closed the distance between them, soft mouth finding his, lips parting and stealing the breath from him.

Jared clung, gave up any vestige of control he might have had and let Jensen own him. Jensen claimed every part of him, sliding down his body while pausing each second to taste, to nuzzle, to mouth. Jared couldn’t think of anything except how good it was, how stupidly well the two of them fit together.

He gazed down at Jensen, knees trembling, croaked out a warning that he would fall without support, and Jensen gave a little snort of laughter then pushed him back to stumble step ungainly onto the bed that he had been using. “I know about this,” he said. “I like it when someone does it to me. I bet you do too.” And Jared gasped, wide-eyed as Jensen fumbled his way down to find his waistband.

As Jensen pushed Jared's track pants down to expose his groin, Jared felt warm breath that made him cry out, and then an even hotter mouth slide around him, sweet suction, slippery glide of tongue and electricity zinging through his veins. 

“You got through. This is your reward, but don’t you ever have to dance for your life again,” growled Jensen. “I don’t have too many tricks up my sleeve. This is it, really.”

“Oh, god! Good enough, I promise,” croaked Jared, and came, his body arcing out as the sweet tingle grew, swelled and burst through his body to flood his senses.

The mood within their little group was a bit more grim after their scare in the last round. Over half of them had been in the bottom. Jared hadn’t exactly felt complacent, but his near miss made him realize just how vulnerable he was. How vulnerable they all were. The silver lining was that he got to work with Sandy now. While she wasn’t the strongest dancer, he could at least count on her to work with him, rather than against him. 

He and Sandy had jazz with Kane, and that was probably Sandy’s strongest style, so he was hopeful that things would go easier for them this week. After the nightmare partners they had before, it was nice to be able to relax with Sandy. Not that they could afford to get too comfortable; any performance could be their last, and Jared knew that he must not let that happen again. He couldn’t count on the judges continuing to save him if he kept landing in the bottom. He’d seen that happen to too many dancers on this show over the years. 

Jensen and Katharine had apparently been having too easy of a time of late, and so the gods had decided to give them a waltz. Which should have been fine given that ballroom was Katharine’s own style. But it seemed that Jensen was struggling, so apparently that wasn’t the case. He grumbled to Jared that partnering wasn’t something that he’d ever had occasion to practice before. And that being a frame to display his partner’s assets was really not his idea of dancing. 

Fortunately, Katharine seemed determined to keep them out of the bottom. Or unfortunately, depending on how Jared was feeling at the moment. He tried to be a good boyfriend — he still couldn’t help smiling whenever he thought of Jensen and he being boyfriends — but sometimes he wished Jensen had time to spend with him. He was always off working with Katharine until he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep. Jared made sure he ate properly, because he’d seen what happened when he didn’t. But there just wasn’t any time for them. 

After the reward Jensen had given him following his close call the other night, Jared was looking forward to exploring that side of their relationship. But whenever Jensen was in their room, he was so utterly exhausted that all he wanted to do was sleep. Right now, they were snuggling and watching mindless television in Jensen’s bed since his after dinner practice session with Katharine had wiped him out. Next thing Jared knew, Jensen was snoring softly. Jared sighed and turned off the TV and felt not the least bit guilty when he snuggled down in Jensen’s arms and fell asleep to the memory of how Jensen’s mouth had felt on him. 

Fortunately for both of them, not to mention Katharine, the hard work paid off, and they were safe that week. Not so for Nicki and Brock, who had to dance for their lives and ended up both losing their partners. On the bright side, now they were working together and all five of them had partners who would make every effort to ensure they all did their best and stuck around for as long as possible. 

With the results show completed and the first rehearsals for the new dances not until morning, Jensen and Jared finally had an evening to themselves without worry about the competition. The rest of the crew went to follow them into their room like they did most nights, winding down from the competition. But Jared had a different plan. It seemed Jensen did as well. 

“Hey guys,” Jensen said. “Mind if Nureyev and I have an evening to ourselves?”

The others sidetracked toward Sandy and Nicki’s room, with some good-natured ribbing directed toward Jensen and Jared.

As soon as the door closed, leaving them alone in the room, Jared was more nervous than he’d expected. He felt awkward and self-conscious, not sure what to do with his hands, not sure how to start… He knew he wanted to touch Jensen, to make him feel good. He’d just never been in a situation like this, never really thought about it. Until Jensen came into his orbit, dance had _been_ his life. 

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked.

“Nothing,” answered Jared, ducking his head and avoiding meeting Jensen’s eyes. “Just … How do you do it?”

“How do I do what?” Jensen seemed confused, and Jared didn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly expressing himself very clearly. 

“You always know what to do, how to act,” Jared tried to explain. “Even when you haven’t been in a situation before, you are always so confident.”

“I’m just that smooth,” Jensen said, probably joking, but Jared drew back at his glibness. Jensen took a breath and continued. “It’s a defense mechanism. I’m sorry. Where I come from, you have to be confident or people take advantage of you. You have to look out for you and yours. Nobody else is gonna do it for you.”

“But you have so many people in your life who would do anything for you.” Jared didn’t quite understand where Jensen was coming from. “Your family, your crew, even your boss and his family.”

“It wasn’t always like that,” Jensen explained. “After the accident, I didn’t fit in with most of my old friends anymore, my family was broken, and I refused to be that poor kid whose life was shattered by a freak accident. So I started dancing on the street. It wasn’t just about the money, it was about the people, the crew. Everybody had their own troubles, but it didn’t define us. We all had each other’s back, and I became who I thought I needed to be within that framework.”

“And now?” Jared asked the question that had been nagging at him. “You think they wouldn’t accept the real you? That you still can’t be yourself with them?”

“What do you mean?” Jensen sounded confused again.

“You hide yourself from them,” Jared said simply. “You hide _us_ from them. Don’t you think they’d accept who you are? From what I’ve seen, which admittedly isn’t much, I think they’d just want you to be happy.”

“You may be right,” Jensen agreed slowly, obviously turning over what Jared had said in his mind. “I’ll give it some thought. But I got the impression that you had some plans for tonight, and I don’t think they were about deep philosophical discussions.”

“Yeah,” Jared agreed. “I guess I’m just nervous.”

“No reason to be,” Jensen smiled. “It’s just us.” 

“You’re right,” Jared agreed and kissed Jensen softly. The kiss quickly deepened, got away from Jared, and he pulled back, walking Jensen backwards before he lost his nerve. As soon as they reached the bed, Jared urged Jensen to sit on the edge. Jensen tried to pull Jared down next to him, but Jared resisted, kneeling on the floor and reaching to unfasten the front of Jensen’s trousers. 

“Jared,” Jensen tried to push Jared’s hands away, but Jared was insistent. “You don’t have to.” 

“I know,” Jared smirked. “Maybe I want to.”

Jensen relented and let Jared have his way. Jared was glad because if Jensen had kept resisting, he knew he would have chickened out. And he really did want to return the favor Jensen had paid him. He finally freed Jensen’s dick from his pants and tentatively licked the head. Jensen hissed, and Jared pulled back, wondering what he’d done wrong.

“What?” Jared asked anxiously. “Was that bad?”

“No,” Jensen answered hoarsely. His fingers twined in Jared’s hair. “The opposite, in fact.” 

“Oh, good.” Jared returned to his self-appointed task. He couldn’t take even half of Jensen without choking, but Jensen didn’t seem to mind. His hand was resting on the back of Jared’s head, just resting, not pushing for more or even guiding, just resting. His breathing sped up, and soon he was moving his hips in short, abortive thrusts. Jared sort of wanted him to lose control completely but was also glad he didn’t. Jared lost himself in the sensations, the intimate, earthy smell and the weight of him on his tongue. The sounds he made as he approached his climax. Much more quickly than he’d expected, Jensen was tugging on his hair, trying to pull him away. Jared stubbornly stayed where he was, redoubling his efforts, and Jensen moaned and came in his mouth. 

As soon as Jensen was finished, Jared pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him, kissing his mouth and rutting against the cut of his hip. In no time, he completely lost it and came in his pants. It suddenly occurred to him that Jensen might not want to taste himself in Jared’s mouth, but Jensen didn’t seem bothered at all. He eagerly licked the taste away before collapsing back on the bed, leisurely caressing Jared’s back. 

“That was,” Jensen started, then stopped. “I don’t know what that was. It was … wow.”

“I thought,” Jared started to ask, slightly confused. “I thought you said you’d … someone had done that for you before?”

“Yeah,” answered Jensen. “Once. But it wasn’t you.”

Jared basked in the warm intimacy developing between them, thrilled and amazed that he had finally found someone. But the disgusting mess in his pants was annoying, and he pulled away reluctantly, going to the bathroom to clean up. He decided against a shower tonight and just changed into his sleep pants. The first rehearsal wouldn’t be until after breakfast, so they’d have time to shower in the morning. Besides, he wanted to get back to Jensen.

Jensen had dressed for sleep as well, and suddenly Jared felt shy again. He wondered if perhaps he should just go to his own bed now that they’d gotten off. He didn’t know what the protocol would be. But Jensen patted the space beside him, and Jared happily crawled in, snuggling up to Jensen’s chest. Both boys fell asleep quickly.

Jared and Sandy drew krump. Jensen assured him that it was a legitimate dance style, that Bryan in his crew from Dallas krumped or whatever, but Jared wasn’t convinced. Dance should be lyrical and emotive, not aggressive and angry. Jensen had drawn lyrical hip-hop (an oxymoron if Jared had ever heard one). Katharine was struggling nearly as much with that style as Jared was with the krump, so Jensen and Sandy were helping them through it. Jared just hoped that approach didn’t backfire, ending with all four of them blending the two styles. 

Sandy wasn’t exactly a hip-hop dancer, but she’d trained in multiple styles. And hanging with Jensen as a perk of being Jared’s partner for the last month and change, she’d picked some up. The lyrical hiphop was a more natural fit. Jensen and Katharine’s choreography clicked with her immediately and she could see when the flavor was wrong, so she was able to help Katharine with her part while Jensen worked with Jared on the krumping. Which didn’t leave a whole lot of time for Jensen and Sandy to master their own choreography. 

Apart from the style troubles, in some ways the competition was getting easier. Learn the routines, do the routines, rinse and repeat. In other ways, it was becoming increasingly challenging. Each round, the competition was stronger. And each round, they were all more tired and drained. They were all becoming better all-around dancers, but the demanding schedule was getting to them. Minor injuries were commonplace now, and Jared’s Achilles tendon had needed treatment several times in the last little while.

Not to mention what it was doing to Jensen and Jared. A couple of stolen moments on results nights were the only times they’d had to be alone. This thing with them was so new that all Jared wanted to do was explore the more physical side of their relationship. Well, all he wanted aside from winning the competition and having a career in dance that didn’t necessarily revolve exclusively around ballet. Besides, he wouldn’t dream of screwing up Jensen’s chances either. So, here they were again, anxious for and yet dreading results night in equal measure. 

None of their judges’ comments were very good on performance night, especially Jensen’s. Apparently he’d been too focused on Jared’s krump to nail Tahmoh’s choreography, which wasn’t exactly up his alley anyway, and didn’t live up to the judges’ expectations. But that was the thing with this competition. Everybody had to do all the styles, no matter what else was going on. And sometimes the judges expected better. If anyone else had done the routine as well as Jensen had, Jared was sure the judges would’ve been over the moon. It might not be fair when the judges expected more out of some dancers than others, but hopefully, the viewers would see that. Or surely there were many out there who loved Jensen’s dancing as much as Jared did. Because Jared couldn’t even contemplate what the competition would be like without Jensen. Besides, Jared would feel so guilty if Jensen went home because he’d been helping Jared. 

Fortunately, the viewers either realized that the judges were too hard on Jensen or just liked him and wanted him to stay on the show, because he was the first to be called safe. The rest of their little group were safe too. Lindsey and Demore, who had never been in the bottom before, went home. Which drove the point home even more that any of them could be cut at any time. It was getting down to the wire now, only five couples left. Jared didn’t know if that made him happy that they’d all stayed in this long or worried because eventually some of them would be cut. Some of both, most likely.

The gang, which had grown to include Katharine, were all hanging out in Jensen and Jared’s room, decompressing after the tough week. Everyone was tired, though, and the party broke up early without either of them having to say anything. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Sandy winked at them as she left, grinning broadly. 

Glad that he had Jared to himself without dances to learn, Jensen pulled Jared to him, kissing him softly. Jared leaned into him, returning the kiss but not deepening it. Eventually, Jared drew back to say, “Whew! I’m glad that week’s over.”

“You and me both,” Jensen returned. “I’m just glad we’re all still here.”

“Me, too,” Jared agreed fervently. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?” Jensen said absently, chasing Jared’s lips again with his own.

Jared pulled away from him entirely to say seriously, almost angrily, “Never do that again!”

“Do what?” Jensen couldn’t think what he might be upset about. Jared had seemed to be into the kissing. At least, he’d thought so.

“Put your and Katharine’s chances in jeopardy to help Sandy and me.”

“I didn’t,” Jensen protested. “We knew our routine, just had a bit of an off night.” 

“Wouldn’t have happened if you’d been more focused on your own routine,” Jared insisted. “Not to mention all of us were exhausted.”

“Maybe,” Jensen admitted, wanting this conversation over. Jared did have a point, but there wasn’t any point belaboring it. Besides, he had more important things on his mind. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Absolutely,” Jared agreed. “Just please … please don’t. I don’t know what I would do without you here.”

“Let’s not find out.” Jensen kissed Jared again, and Jared finally relented, kissing him back. Once he gave in, the intensity ramped up quickly, underscoring Jared’s desperation at the thought of Jensen going home. Jensen was tempted to free Jared’s cock and swallow him down. That had been pretty fantastic the first time he’d done it. Jensen got lost momentarily in the memory— Jared’s responsiveness, the taste and feel of him on Jensen’s tongue. He shivered at the delicious memory but forced himself to draw back from Jared. He had a different idea of how he wanted tonight to go, and he didn’t want to lose his nerve. 

But Jared’s thoughts had apparently been going along a similar route as Jensen’s had been, and he slid to his knees, hands fumbling at Jensen’s pants closure. Jensen took his hands and drew him back to sit beside him again. 

“What?” Jared objected. “Don’t you want—”

“Yeah, but.... I thought,” Jensen interrupted Jared and then stammered, suddenly nervous. He’d been thinking about this for a while. Since before he’d known Jared, if he was being honest with himself. But the thoughts had become a bit more fervent in recent weeks. He grabbed a small sack from his bag, dumped the contents on the couch between them and finished rapidly, almost unintelligibly, “Doyouwannahaveactualsex?”

“What? Where did you—” Jared started, obviously confused for a minute. “Wait a minute! Did you just ask me if I wanted to have _actual sex_? What are we now, Bill Clinton?”

If Jensen hadn’t been blushing already, he’s quite sure he was now, but he soldiered on. “We don’t have to… If you’re not ready or whatever. I get it.” 

“No, that’s not it,” Jared said, biting his lip, and Jensen had to look away. “Who would… you know…”

“Bottom?” Jensen asked. Jared just shrugged and nodded. 

“Honestly?” Jared nodded again, so Jensen went on. “I don’t really care.”

“But obviously you’ve been thinking about this?” Jared pressed. 

“Yeah, I have.” It was Jensen’s turn to nod. “And I honestly can’t decide which I want more. Both, maybe? But we have to start somewhere…”

“Then maybe you do me?” Jared said in a rush, as if he didn’t get the words out quickly, they’d stick in his throat. “I’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Neither have I, and I don’t want to hurt you either,” Jensen responded reasonably. “But you’ve done research, right?”

Jensen was sure his cheeks were blazing as he thought of the _research_ he’d done over the years. Not all of it was porn, but enough. He just nodded in answer to Jared’s question. 

“I trust you,” Jared said simply. 

“But are you sure?” Jensen needed a decisive answer from Jared. “I don’t want you to do anything just because I want to.”

“Does this feel like I’m unsure about anything?” Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and pressed it to his groin, and Jensen spontaneously grasped the hard length, moaning reflexively. Jared gasped and thrust into Jensen’s hand and suddenly they were making out again. Jared drew back momentarily to say, “In case there was any doubt, that was a yes. Please. Just do it.”

That was good enough for Jensen. He grabbed the supplies from the sofa and guided them toward the bed. Jared obligingly sat and scooted up the bed when they reached it. Jensen took his time undressing Jared, kissing each patch of skin as he uncovered it. Jared was practically vibrating by the time Jensen was finished and sat back to admire the long lean body before him. 

“Come on, man,” Jared pleaded. “I’m dying here.” 

Jensen shook himself out of his reverie and rededicated himself to his task. He covered two fingers with the lube and took that magnificent cock into his mouth before easing one finger into his channel. His research had indicated that there could never be too much lube, and that careful preparation helped to alleviate whatever pain there was. Jensen was determined not to skimp on either, although the way Jared’s body parted to accept the intrusion was testing that resolve. After taking a deep, calming breath, Jensen focused on doing his best to ensure Jared’s comfort and enjoyment. Jared’s responsiveness helped in that endeavor, and very soon he was alternately thrusting into Jensen’s mouth and forcing himself back on Jensen’s fingers. Jensen added more lube and looked for that spot that he’d read would send a zing of pleasure through Jared’s body. He knew instantly when he’d found it because Jared thrust sharply into his mouth and called out, “What the hell was that?”

Jensen kept on stimulating the spot, relishing Jared’s obvious enjoyment and answered, “That’s your prostate. You like it when I do that?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jared answered breathlessly. “But if you keep it up, I’m gonna shoot. And I want you inside me first. So get on with it!”

Jensen was more than happy to comply. He was having just as much difficulty as Jared in controlling himself. The condom was a bit trickier than he’d expected, especially with his hands all slippery with lube, but Jared rolled it on for him. 

Jensen went to guide Jared to roll over, but Jared resisted. “I’ve read that it’s easier for you if you roll over.”

“I want to see your face,” Jared argued. 

Jensen smiled, happy that Jared wanted to be face to face. Jensen did too, but was determined to take care of his partner, especially in this. He was sure that he had the same dopey, love-struck look on his own face that he saw on Jared’s. Slowly, he pushed his way into Jared. He watched his lover’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort, and stilled immediately.

“I’m not made of china,” Jared grumbled. “Just get in here.”

Jensen did and the warm, velvety pressure around his cock almost made him lose it again. He paused again to regain some semblance of composure, but when Jared opened his mouth to complain again, he thrust with more authority, nailing Jared’s prostate with each stroke and the only sounds from him after that were gasps and moans of pleasure. The slightly pained expression on Jared’s face had smoothed, leaving him completely open, gazing up at him with frank adoration. 

It was sweaty and messy and the most amazing thing Jensen had ever experienced. The intimacy, the emotional connection he felt was so unbelievably awesome. So, obviously it couldn’t last. Far too soon, he felt the telltale tingling in his spine and knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. He reached down to get a hand on Jared’s cock, but almost before Jensen could touch him, Jared was coming all over their bellies and chests. That was all she wrote for Jensen, and he shot his load into the condom, deep in Jared’s body. He wanted to stay just like that forever, but his body had other ideas. He collapsed to one side of Jared, who winced slightly as his softened cock slid out. 

“You okay?” Jensen asked with concern. 

“Better than,” Jared answered, with a beatific smile on his face. “That was incredible. I can’t imagine why we waited so long.”

“I can’t imagine,” Jensen deadpanned. “It’s not like there’s been anything else going on.”

Jared smacked him playfully on the arm and nuzzled into his chest. He wrinkled his nose and observed, “We’re seriously gross. But I’m too tired for a shower.”

Jensen went to the bathroom for a washcloth, stripping off the condom and tossing it in the trash. Jared was nearly asleep when he got back, but it didn’t take much convincing to get him to move to the other bed once Jensen had cleaned him up. The one they’d been in was a lost cause, covered with spunk and sweat and a good bit of the obscene amounts of lube Jensen had used. Jensen toppled in beside him, snuggling close, asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

The competition only got more fierce each week, it seemed. Jared and Sandy drew a Lindy Hop, and about all Jensen knew about that was what he’d seen on the show over the years — crazy fast footwork and insane lifts. Katharine and Jensen drew a samba, and he was just glad that Katharine was a ballroom dancer. She wasn’t especially focused on Latin, but he thought she’d be more comfortable than, say, a jazz dancer like Sandy. Jensen doubted they’d have either the time or the energy to help Sandy out as much this week, so hopefully Jared could cope. Sandy too, of course, but all of them couldn’t stay forever, and Jensen wasn’t sure what he’d do if Jared went. He had a feeling that Katharine knew that, which was why she’d worked so hard with Sandy during the previous week and didn’t object to Jensen working with Jared. Still, that had almost ended very badly for them, and Jensen decided it wasn’t fair to Katharine not to give 110% to their own routines. 

Their samba was like nothing Jensen had ever done before. They were all up in each other’s personal space, practically making out at times. And the dancing … it was very fast, but very sensuous. It was meant to be sexy, but Jensen just found it awkward. He was much better at comedy than romance in his dancing. He’d never needed to fake chemistry with a girl before. At least not at this level. He hoped he could pull it off in the end without it looking as unnatural as it felt. Katharine proved again what a gem she was. She picked up on his discomfort with the routine and worked to put him at his ease. She kept cracking jokes, teasing and mock flirting with him and then snapping right into character when it was time to dance, emphasizing to him how much of an act it was for them both. She reassured him that he didn’t look awkward but did, in fact, pull off sexy quite well. 

The dancing itself wasn’t nearly as much of a problem for him. Once he’d figured out the posture and bounce, the rest was sort of natural for him. Not that it was anything like the street dancing he was used to doing, but then nothing in this competition had been. The walk, the hip action, the body rolls, all new to him, but he learned them relatively easily. Or maybe it was just he didn’t have any spare energy left for worry about the dancing as he was so busy freaking out about pulling off the chemistry.

Their choreographer, Sebastian, was a good teacher. They’d had him a couple of rounds ago for their smooth waltz, but this seemed to be more his thing. They’d already established a good rapport with him, and his excitement about this dance made him even easier to work with. Despite their excellent progress, it still took a lot of time and effort, and they were exhausted all the time. 

But Jared was freaking out about his and Sandy’s Lindy Hop, saying he’d surely drop Sandy if she couldn’t figure out how to balance during the lifts. Jared was strong and accustomed to doing lifts, but if Sandy couldn’t distribute her weight during the flips, it could spell disaster for them. And Jensen knew how the judges looked on men who didn’t protect their partners on this show. 

“What’s up with you?” Katharine asked after he messed up his samba roll three straight times, after doing it correctly every time that morning. “What happened at lunch? You’ve lost your focus.” 

“It’s Jared,” Jensen sighed. “He’s worried about their lifts and flips. And even if it’s not him that messes it up, the judges’ll be all over him if he drops Sandy.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Katharine wiped her face and arms, tossed her towel in the corner, and headed out, looking back from the door quizzically when Jensen didn’t immediately follow. 

“But I thought we needed to focus on our own routine after what happened last week.” Jensen was sure they’d been on the same page about that. 

“You’re doing great,” Katharine said simply. “At least you were this morning. And it’s not like we could blend these two styles like we did the ones we had last week. So let’s go fix your boy so you can focus again.”

They spent the afternoon running through the tricks with Jared and Sandy. Katharine showed Sandy how to counterbalance safely while Jared was swinging her around. Jensen was terrified just watching them but was sure that Jared was coping with the difficulty much better than he would have. By dinnertime, they had the dangerous elements under control and both Jared and Sandy seemed less frantic, which allowed Jensen to relax and just hang out with his friends over dinner. 

Jared and Sandy were back in the rehearsal studio directly after dinner, so Jensen and Katharine went swimming with Brock and Nicki, who were still overwhelmed with their Argentine Tango. From their conversation at dinner, Jensen could tell that they just needed to give it some space. It had been working much better until this afternoon, when they seemed to be taking turns forgetting what they were doing and tripping each other up. Jensen was sure it was just nerves and perfectionism and decided to drag them off to have a bit of fun and relieve some stress. Besides, helping to alleviate his friends’ stress level had the added advantage of taking his mind off Jared and Sandy’s troubles.

It was late by the time that Jared staggered into their room. Jensen was sleeping already, and Jared could barely convince himself to get in the shower and then stretch. Jeff would be proud of him for sticking to his training, but Jared knew he’d never make it through the performance if he didn’t. PJs on and teeth brushed, he headed for bed, but was distracted by the vision of Jensen sleeping in his own bed and couldn’t resist crawling into Jensen’s arms for just a minute. But as soon as he laid down and snuggled closer, Jensen pulled him in and buried his nose in the nape of Jared’s neck. That was apparently just what Jared needed to quiet his mind and sleep, because the next thing Jared knew, the alarm was going off and he was staring up into Jensen’s confused but loving gaze. 

“Umm,” Jared started, brain still fuzzy from sleep. He pulled away from Jensen self-consciously, blushing furiously. “I … I just … I was heading to bed and umm … my bed looked so cold and lonely. And yours looked … warm and inviting. I was just gonna stay for a minute ... Uh, must’ve fallen asleep.”

“I’m not complaining,” Jensen chuckled. “Was kinda nice waking up with you right there. What time did you come in? How did you sleep?”

“Slept better than I have in a while. Usually I’m going over the dance in my head forever. Not last night.” Jared realized there was another question and he hadn’t answered it. “I don’t really know what time it was. Late.”

“Did you get the routine worked out?” Jensen asked.

“Yeah, mostly,” Jared answered. “But then we started doing stupid stuff because it was late and decided to call it a night. But I think we’ll be okay.”

“Good,” Jensen said, smiling at him. “Can’t have you going home just yet.”

“What about you?” Jared asked, suddenly realizing he’d been so caught up in his own problems that he had no idea how Jensen’s dance was coming. Jared wracked his brain trying to remember what style they were doing and his heart sank. So many dancers struggled with the samba on this show and here Jared was freaking out about his own and likely distracting Jensen. “How’s the samba?”

“Better than I was afraid it was gonna be,” Jensen reassured him. “It’s still pretty awkward for us, but Katharine assures me it looks all right. She’s been doing the ballroom stuff a long time, so I trust she’s right.”

“I guess we better head down to breakfast,” Jared said reluctantly. “We’re supposed to go through it one more time before dress rehearsal.” 

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. “We are too.” 

For something that they had struggled so much with, the actual performance went surprisingly well. For Jared anyway. There was one flip where Sandy was off balance, but Jared was strong enough that she was never in any danger of falling. And Sandy’s footwork was out of time quite a bit. The judges’ comments were rather harsh, but they said that Jared recovered well on the off-balance flip. Considering how badly they had done in the beginning, Jared was reasonably happy. He’d been too nervous to note how the other couples had done before them, but he hoped that their performance had been enough to keep both of them in. Jensen and Katherine were next, and Jared barely had a moment to wish them luck as they exited and the other couple entered the stage. 

Jared had almost dreaded Jensen’s samba, fully expecting to be jealous of Katharine during the always sexy style. But once they started dancing, all Jared could think about was how hot Jensen was. Even the bits where their lips almost touched made him think how Jensen’s lips felt under his. And the strength and command he showed with Katherine was incredibly hot as well. And he couldn’t even think about those hips. Jared was incredibly grateful that he wasn’t dancing in a leotard because it would definitely be obvious where his thoughts had gone. 

Jared was just glad Jensen was dancing last. He studiously ignored Jensen through the taping of the rest of the episode until Jensen hissed at him, “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Jared answered. “Not mad.” “Then what?” pressed Jensen.

“I’ll tell you later. After we’re done here.” Jared just needed to get out of here. He never had understood why all of the contestants needed to go back out on the stage at the end. It’s not like they ever showed much of it. It was just the host wrapping up the show. But finally they were free, and Jared just dragged Jensen off to their room and pressed him back against the inside of the door. 

“Wha—,” Jensen started. Jared shut him up with a kiss. It didn’t take long for Jensen to get with the program.

They had had even less time than usual this week, with Jared spending every available minute with Sandy working on their routine. Jared had resolutely pushed away any thoughts of the previous week’s results night, when they’d made love for the first time. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, putting his all into perfecting the Lindy Hop. But watching Jensen dance his samba, all that desire and desperation had come rushing back. And all he wanted to do now was strip them both down, climb Jensen’s body and sink down on his magnificent cock. 

Jensen slowed Jared’s frantic pace, ever the gentleman and solicitous lover. He made sure they’d gotten the door locked and guided them to the nearest bed. “Do you wanna,” he asked ambiguously. 

“Do I wanna what?” Jared asked for clarification incredulously. Wasn’t it obvious what he wanted? “Fuck? Yes, I most definitely want to fuck.”

“No, I meant, do you want to do me this time?” Jensen clarified.

Jared shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He really, really did. Just, not now. Right now, he just wanted Jensen to take control of him like he had that samba. And maybe he was just a little nervous about being on the other end of things, but he had no doubt they’d work that out. Some other time. “No, not now. Just… Please.”

Jensen nodded, pulling out the supplies he’d stashed in nightstand drawer. He was more confident prepping Jared this time, but still far too deliberate for Jared’s taste right now. He’d obviously succeeded in letting Jensen know he was moving too slowly, because he increased his pace. He still carefully fingered Jared open, taking care to nudge his prostate, and Jared was soon rutting against him shamelessly. Not that Jared needed much encouragement in the mood he was in tonight. Just when Jared had had enough and opened his mouth to insist that Jensen move things along, he removed his hand, replacing it with his cock and sliding home in one long smooth glide. 

Jared tried not to wince when it hurt quite a bit more than it had the last time. Clearly he wasn’t successful, because Jensen stilled immediately. 

“You good?” Jensen asked solicitously. “Did I go too fast?” “I’m great,” Jared answered, ineffectively trying to find enough leverage to fuck himself onto Jensen’s cock. “Be better if you’d just get on with it.”

Thankfully, Jensen did, thrusting into him passionately, apparently just as desperate as Jared was. It was every bit as incredible as it had been the first time. In no time at all, they both lost it, practically simultaneously, and they snuggled into each other, breathing raggedly and enjoying the warm intimacy as they came back to themselves. 

“What got into you tonight?” asked Jensen.

“I dunno,” Jared answered. “I guess it was all the stress of the week and then the performance. I couldn’t think about anything else. Then it was over, and you were dancing, and you were just so fucking hot up there. Not that you aren’t usually, just… I don’t know. Anyway, all I could think about was getting you alone and naked.”

“Not complaining here,” Jensen smirked, not unkindly. “That was… amazing. More than amazing. Feel free to ravish me anytime.”

Jared smiled at Jensen stupidly, dozing as Jensen cleaned them up and moved them to the other bed. He wallowed in the warm loving embrace, content and finally sated.

By the time they resurfaced, dinner was over, but fortunately the rest of the gang had made plates for them. Jared’s stomach was growling, and he was sure that Jensen was hungry as well. They found the rest of the crew in Nicki and Sandy’s room. Sandy was crying and throwing their stuff around their room with her Minnie Mouse suitcase on her bed. Jared felt guilty for abandoning his partner in what was clearly a time of need.

“What’s up, San?” Jensen asked.

“I’m packing!” Sandy said through her tears. “What does it look like?”

“But why are you packing?” Jared pressed. 

“You were there!” Sandy rounded on Jared, pointing her finger in his face. “Didn’t you see my dancing? Didn’t you hear what the judges said?”

“Maybe it wasn’t our best,” Jared conceded. “But I didn’t think we were that bad.”

“Not you,” Sandy sobbed. “Me! And with only five couples left, none of them will be that bad. And I was the worst.”

“Hold up,” Jensen said. “Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little bit here?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell her,” Brock put in. 

“Yeah, Sandy,” Jared agreed. “At least wait until after the show tomorrow. Enjoy tonight and see what tomorrow brings.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Sandy finally agreed. “No sense ruining our last night together with tears. Time enough for that tomorrow night.”

Jared hadn’t really heard the judges’ comments for any of them, so he didn’t want to be the one to try to cheer her up. But nobodyelse was jumping in to disagree with her. “You don’t know that.”

“Let’s just drop it and go hang out in your room. This room’s depressing.”

Jared met Nicki’s eyes, and she just nodded, so he let it drop. He didn’t envy the girls the cleanup they’d have to do before they would be able to go to bed, but Nicki seemed to agree with Sandy. 

When they reconvened in Jensen and Jared’s room, no one mentioned the upcoming results. They all talked about the times they’d shared, all that they’d been through together. It was amazing that they’d all stayed together this long, and Jared sat next to Jensen, enjoying the camaraderie they’d all developed over the past few weeks.

Sure enough, Sandy had been right. She and Gil, the ballroom dancer, were the ones to go. Jared found himself in tears as he watched her farewell montage. They had become such good friends over the weeks working together.

After the episode, while the closing credits probably rolled on television screens across the country, he pushed through the crowd mobbing the eliminated dancers and pulled her close, hugging her tightly and whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve done more to make sure you were safe.”

“Nonsense!” Sandy exclaimed, slapping his shoulder to emphasize her point. “You were the best partner I could hope for. Without you, I’d have likely been eliminated weeks ago. So thank you so much, and one of you boys better win this thing for me!”

Results night had been a welcome night off and time that the boys spent together, carefree and without dances to learn. But this week, no one was in any mood to celebrate. Sandy, Nicki and Katharine had made short work of helping Sandy pack her things, and now all six of them were gathered in Jensen and Jared’s room, one last evening hanging out before saying their goodbyes. Sandy would fly out in the morning, leaving a gaping hole in their group. They all knew she’d be back in a couple of weeks for the finale, but it was still a sad moment. 

Well, Sandy was gone, and Jensen knew that sooner or later everyone but the winner would share that fate. He tried not to feel smug that it meant Jared’s partner would now be Felicia, who in his opinion at least was a much better dancer. It was Katharine that finally voiced his thoughts.

“At least we’ll be able to concentrate more on our own routines now it’s getting down to the wire,” she said to him as they watched Alaina introduce their next routine to them. 

Contenting himself with a smirk and a nod, he elbowed her and nodded towards where Alaina had her hands on her hips in an attitude that demonstrated her lack of patience for anyone who wasn’t fully invested in her words of wisdom.

“Good. Now that I have your attention, your dance is to be about a pair of lovers. It’s stylized, because I’ve taken it from the Willow Pattern, so I want there to be Chinese accents to it. The story goes that the two lovers are meeting in secret, when the girl’s father catches them. They run away before he can kill the boy, and the goddess of compassion, Kuan Yin, sees them and changes them into birds so they can fly away and be together.”

She signaled to the two students who would demo the steps for them, and together Jensen and Katharine watched as the newcomers demonstrated the moves the two of them would need to learn.

Jensen’s mind catalogued the different forms as he watched them. There were lifts, many lifts, and he knew those wouldn’t be a problem. There was a spin he would need to work on, and of course the fluidity of the whole thing would be a concern, since he was so used to hitting each move hard. Toning things down was always his problem, since so much of what he was learning demanded smooth moves between one form and the next.

It was a good dance, he thought. Dramatic and pretty to watch. Katharine’s eyes were shining too as she nodded along to the routine, and Jensen knew that she too was mentally cataloguing the moves.

“You gonna be okay with heaving my fat ass around all the time?” she asked him, and Jensen laughed as he pounded on his chest with his fists. 

“Me big strong he-man type person. Me heave small woman thing like sack of flour.” He beat his chest again and then pretended to cough as Alaina glared at them.

“I devoutly hope that any heaving around you do will be somewhat more graceful than hauling sacks of flour,” she said. “I want to see grace in every step, or I will get out my subtle persuader.”

Without further ado, the pair of them began to apply themselves to the task of learning the dance.

Jared and Felicia had really not had much of an opportunity to get to know each other before now. They had drawn Mark Sheppard as their choreographer, and the two of them broke the ice by hypothesizing as to what style he would actually have them do. On the card they had drawn it said contemporary, but neither of them could imagine the man doing the kind of moves that were the staple of a contemporary routine.

They were at first astonished when the man himself arrived for their first session of the day in a wifebeater and sweats instead of his customary silk suit and proceeded to show them just what he was expecting of them.

“All right, you layabouts,” he said. “You’re a pair of hoboes. You got that?”

Wide-eyed, the two of them nodded. 

“Good. Now pay attention: Someone’s given Jared a sandwich, because he’s the pretty one, but you, Felicia, want that sandwich,and you’re determined to get it, so there’s a battle going on. You’re sneaky, like all women, and not averse to using your wiles. So this is how it’s going to go.” A slender girl, who Jared recognized as last year’s ‘Born to Dance’ champion, stepped forward and the two of them proceeded to perform a complex routine in which there was a good deal of humor.

It seemed that Mark was more than just a suit, and Jared’s respect for him grew immensely from that moment on. 

“So, Felicia, you offer him the bottle in exchange for the sandwich, but it’s full of water, not booze, and that makes you chase her, Jared. You bring her down and take it back, but as you turn away, she’s going to whack you on the back of the head with the bottle, like this. While Jared is staggering around, you tuck the sandwich under your hat and pretend you ate it. Jared droops and turns away, and you get it out to start taking a bite, so he will somersault right into your space and snatch it back. Then you beg a little, and finally Jared tears it in half, and you both sit down back to back to eat the thing, okay?” Mark made a kissy face at his partner. “Thank you, Amy. As ever, I couldn’t do it without your help.” As Amy turned to leave the rehearsal room, Mark turned back to Jared and Felicia. “Okay. Any questions, children?’”

Both of them shook their heads "no" and rose to begin their take on the routine.

The week flew by, and before they knew it, performance night was upon them. Felicia had somehow managed to tear her ACL, and danced courtesy of steroid shots, painkillers and strapping. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to continue and left in tears following Mark’s praise for her strength of will. The other one to go was Osric, a young, energetic martial artist whose agility had been very popular with the fans. This, of course, meant that Jared would have yet another new partner.

This time his partner was Alona, and she didn’t worry him even slightly. Her dancing was precise and graceful, and he knew that they would do well together. He was a little worried about Jensen, who was trying his best for more flexibility, stretching whenever he got the chance and who was becoming increasingly remote as exhaustion took its toll on them all.

As Tahmoh, their coach for the group dance, kept on saying to them, they were playing for all the marbles now. Finalists received all kinds of prizes, and the contest winner would get a part in Mark Pellegrino’s new movie as well as the cash prize on offer.

Jensen and Katharine were krumping with Sam Ferris this time, and by now it didn’t take long for Katharine to master the style. It was easy for Jensen, and the two of them had fun with it. Less need to struggle through it also meant that they were able to sleep a little more and rest their aching joints.

Mark Pellegrino was making life complicated for Jared and Alona, and the two of them were learning a piece where they were both clowns. To say it wasn’t Jared’s favorite dance routine was putting it mildly. Clowns meant makeup and stupid clothes. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Behind the door to their room was fast becoming the only place where Jensen and Jared could relax.

Jared’s grandparents had come into town to see him perform in the semi-finals, and Mack and Donna were going to be there if Jensen made it to the finals. Brock and Danneel were apparently hot and heavy after Danneel had flown in a few days earlier. 

The night before they were due to dance in the semi-finals, Jared and his grandparents had been out for a meal. He returned somewhat later than he’d intended and pushed open the door to the room, thinking that Jensen would be sleeping.

He was taken by surprise by Jensen flinging himself across the room in an almost perfect grand jeté and hurling himself into Jared’s arms.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, his mouth against Jared’s lips. “Been waiting.”

“Well, hello,” was all Jared was able to say before Jensen was kissing him deep and hard.

Jared let himself be owned, his heart thumping in his chest as he felt strong arms pull him tight and Jensen’s body roll against him, arousal prickling along his nerve endings. The telltale nudge of Jensen’s cock pressed against his hip as Jared clung, his own arms holding that vital body just as tightly.

Getting from the wall to the bed was accomplished in a flurry of discarded clothing, soft moans and filthy, whispered endearments. Jared was hard now. Harder than he’d ever been, and as Jensen pressed him back against the mattress, he could feel that swag, feel the control that Jensen radiated in his dancing and suddenly knew that this was Jensen’s core, the sweat and fire and altogether irresistible sexuality of him.

“God, I love you,” he groaned as Jensen mumbled kisses down over his neck, his shoulders, hot mouth devouring superheated skin and Jensen’s rough jaw scratchy as he slid down to mouth at each nipple.

Jared could only hold on, overwhelmed by Jensen, the taste of him, his scent, his heat. “Love you too,” whispered Jensen. “You an’ me, we’re gonna own that stage tomorrow. They won’t be able to see anyone else but the two of us.”

“You already own me,” said Jared, gasping as one of Jensen’s hands stole down to take hold of his cock and squeeze it.

“Glad to hear it,” said Jensen, grinning down at him, and Jared pushed into his grip, knew he was close and bit his lip.

“You gonna do something with that?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit on it.” He lifted himself up and forward so that Jared’s cock was pressed against him and began to rock against him, slowly sinking down onto it. It seemed that Jensen had already slicked himself up, because there was no dryness, no pain, only the slow, silken glide as he gradually sank down and that heat that radiated from inside Jensen to sear Jared as he pushed in, pushed up, striving to get impossibly closer.

The room was filled with the sounds of exertion, of gasps and sighs. It wasn’t long before Jared couldn’t hold back anymore and came with a strangled cry of “Jen!” Jensen followed him down, his sticky essence coating Jared’s belly as he let his release overtake him.

Yawning, Jared felt Jensen reach down for a piece of discarded clothing to clean them off with, and then his eyes drifted closed, and he knew no more.

The following morning, the six dancers presented themselves for costume and makeup, while Jared grumbled softly about fake noses and stupid clowns. Jensen, in his loose overalls and beanie, saw him in his multi-colored satin and just about bust a gut laughing. Brock and Nicki, due to perform some African jazz thing, came by in their feathers and hide to wish them all luck, and Jared snarled when Nicki said, “Nice nose!”

The opening group number displayed Jared at his best, leaping and twirling as he wove between the others, playing the part of the hero come to liberate them. He couldn’t help thinking that Tahmoh had choreographed it specially for him and it allowed him to show off his perfect lines as he prowled across the stage. A brief pas de deux with Brock had the audience yelling their approval, but it was the final lift with Jensen that set them on fire and made them scream for more. As they took their bow, oiled muscles gleaming under the lights, it was evident that it was going to be a hard fought battle.

Jensen took the stage first, his dance with Katharine testament to Sam Ferris’s ingenuity. She’d made it about the battle of the sexes, and Katharine gave it her all. When they were done, Jensen wanted to applaud her.

“God, woman! You rock my world. You need to marry me, like, right now.”

“I think Jared would have something to say about that,” she shot back at him, still flushed with the effort of her performance.

“Are we that obvious?” Jensen was taken aback by her words.

“Duh!” She rolled her eyes. “You’re so cute together with your surreptitious touching and eye fucking. I can’t quite decide if you’ve got it together yet or not. Brock swears you have, but I think you’d be a lot more relaxed if you were getting off.”

Jensen was now bright red, and he covered his face with his hands. “Dude! I’m from Texas, and your words are terrifying me. Never let me hear you speak of this again.”

“Well, all right,” she said and then giggled. “On one condition. When you do get it together, you have to let me watch.”

Jensen was now the rich purple color of a plum. “Woman!” he yelled, making as if to strangle her. She turned and fled giggling.

By the time Jared made it back into the green room, he had managed to pull his fake nose off, which, if anything, made him look even scarier than he had before. 

He was swiftly swept away to have the makeup removed and to be made ready for their final group dance, which had them all in flowing white shrouds, rising from the grave to Danse Macabre.

Jensen noted with satisfaction that whenever his partner became possible to single out during these group routines that a cheer would go up from the audience. It made him happy. Once they were done, and the closing credits were rolling, he sought Jared out. “They all know about us, Jay,” he told him.

Jared grinned at him. “Oh yeah?” he said. “What do they know?”

“Katharine asked me point blank if she could watch us do it!” The outrage in his voice was unmistakable. 

“I hope you told her we charge a hefty fee for that kind of performance,” smirked Jared, and Jensen huffed, stalking away with his nose in the air.

The following night saw them all lined up on the stage again for the results, and when Mark Pellegrino took the stage with the dreaded white envelopes, the audience fell silent. 

“So this set of results is for what my esteemed colleague Tahmoh calls ‘all the marbles.’ And it means a place in the finals for four out of our top six.” He waved the envelopes in the air. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that the contestants who aren’t chosen are not wonderful dancers. We’ve all seen them week after week struggle to learn and then succeed beyond our wildest dreams. All the dancers who have graced our stage have been terrific, but alas, tonight we have to let two of them go.” He popped open the first envelope. “Hmmm... This tells me the name of the first person to be a contestant in our finals. The honor goes to Jared.”

Whatever he was going to say next was lost in the screams of approval from the audience, and Jensen turned to hug his lover, apparently not caring, for once, how gay he might look.

“The next person to make it through to our final is... Nicki.” She gave a little bounce, and Brock swung her into his arms to hug her while the audience applauded a little more sedately.

“Our second lady finalist is... Katharine,” he announced, and as Katharine squeaked and jumped into Jensen’s arms, Mark turned to Alona. “I’m sorry, my dear. That means you didn’t quite make it.”

Someone hurried onto the stage with a bouquet for Alona, and everyone paused to watch the footage of Alona’s journey on the show. Once that was finished, Mark stepped forward again to claim the microphone. “That means that one of these two amazing dancers has claimed our last spot in the finals. We’ll tell you who that is, right after this commercial break.”

To Jared, watching his lover from the audience, it seemed as if the commercial would never end. Jensen seemed calm, but Jared could see that telltale left hand of Jensen’s tapping against his thigh and sent up a prayer to anyone that might be listening that Jensen had made it into the final with him.

When the call for quiet finally came, Mark seemed to want to spin out the moment a little while longer. He extolled the two dancers’ virtues and finally announced that the last dancer to reach the finale had actually polled the most votes. The theater was so quiet, you could hear the proverbial pin drop, and when Mark at last announced, “Jensen,” the entire place erupted into bedlam. Jensen himself staggered and then turned to hug Brock, commiserating with him as he turned to leave the stage and go join Jared in the audience.

Neither of them paid much attention to Brock’s farewell montage, they merely clung to each other shakily. 

“We made it. We’re through.”

Brock wasn’t going home because he, along with all the others were to be brought in for the finale group dances. 

Alaina had worked out a routine where the seasons were at war with each other, and Katharine was the sun, who was supposed to dry up Nicki’s rain, while Jensen was snow, and Jared represented the wind. The premise made Jensen giggle, since he’d soon discovered that if Jared were to eat anything at all that wasn’t on his permitted list of food, he became incredibly gassy and could clear the entire rehearsal room in one gigantic explosion of wind. 

“Excellent casting,” he told Alaina and got a clip around the ear from Jared as well as a wink from his choreographer. It didn’t take long for the dance to take shape, and he wondered why he’d ever had a problem picking up choreography. He was even thinking that he’d like to try doing some of it for himself.

Everything was going perfectly, and of course it was too good to last. When the call from his sister came at dinner time, he wasn’t expecting anything except to hear her fangirl over his success.

“Jensen,” he heard, and then her voice dissolved into incomprehensible mumbles as she burst into tears.

“Mack?” He knew he was yelling, and Jared had looked up, then come over to join him, one arm around his shoulders as he frowned. 

The phone crackled, and then Jensen heard Jim Beaver’s measured tones. “Son, I hate to have to tell you this, but your mama was taken to the hospital.They ain’t quite sure what the problem is, but she was found unconscious on the floor a couple of hours ago, and so far she’s been unresponsive to any stimuli.”

“She’s not dead?” Jensen made a little move as if to push away the very idea.

“No, son. She ain’t dead, but it don’t look good.”

“Oh, god.” For a moment, Jensen wasn’t sure if he could remember how to breathe. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“We’ll keep Mack with us tonight, son. She ain’t in the best state to be on her own.”

Jensen believed he might have said thank you. He thought he might possibly even have said goodbye, but when Jared took the phone from his hands, he looked up, bewildered.

“I’ve gotta go home now,” he mumbled and then just sat, staring at nothing in particular.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Jared cupped Jensen’s cheek, trying for eye contact and finally, after a while, getting it.

“It’s... momma’s in the hospital. She’s unresponsive. I have to go.” Jensen sounded calm, but Jared could see the shock in his eyes, feel the muscles in his jaw jumping under his fingertips.

“Come on, we need to go talk to Mr. Sheppard.” Jared drew Jensen in, offering whatever comfort he could. “We can still make the redeye if we hurry.”

Jensen nodded and then paused as Jared’s words cut through his misery. “Wait, what? No! You have to stay and win this thing.”

“Not gonna happen.” Jared took a deep breath, aware of just how much he was throwing away and how little it meant to him when stacked up against the warm-hearted lady who had welcomed him in when he had nobody. “She’s my momma too, and you’re my forever. I’m going with you, baby.”

Jensen made as if to protest again, but the look of gratitude on his face gave whatever he might have said the lie. “Okay,” he said finally, and together they went to find Mark Sheppard.

As expected, Sheppard didn’t take the news well. “You do realize that to leave at this point will leave you both cut from the show?” he asked. “Are you willing to throw it all away?”

Tears sprang into Jensen’s eyes. “She’s my mom,” he whispered. “And it’s my fault...”

“No, Jen. It’s not your fault at all. You were a kid. There was nothing you could’ve done.” Jared put his arms around Jensen.

Mark studied the two of them with a wry smile, then reached for the phone and demanded that he be put through to whichever Dallas hospital contained Donna Ackles as a patient. Replacing the phone, he glared at Jensen. “You know you would’ve won this thing?”

“Not me. Jared.” Mark rolled his eyes. 

“Gawd help me, I can see I’ve got myself saddled with a pair of hopeless romantics,” he grumbled and was about to go on, when the phone rang. “Well, go on then. Pick it up!” he told Jensen, who was looking vaguely terrified.

“Hello?” Jensen sounded shell-shocked still. He listened to the person on the other end of the line and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I just heard that my mom is there. Donna, Donna Ackles. I need to know how she is.”

He seemed to listen for forever but finally said, “Thank you. Tell her I... tell her that we’ll be there tomorrow morning, me an’ Jared, okay?”

He hung up the phone. “According to the nurse, she’s resting comfortably, whatever that means.”

“It means she’s not in any danger of popping her clogs,” said Mark, smirking. “I’ll have the travel arrangements set up for you tomorrow. Go and get some sleep, and good luck. The finale is going to be a poorer place without you.”

And that was that. As the two of them walked away, their dreams and hopes all gone, Mark Sheppard watched them out of sight and then swore softly and put in a call to Julian Richings.

Coming home to Dallas seemed like an anticlimax after the fun and adrenaline rushes of the past weeks in Los Angeles. Jensen wasn’t sure he could just go back to his job in the bakery, and he knew he didn’t want Jared to fade back into his school. Much of the weekly stipend he’d received from the show was still in the bank account. Mack had been very frugal, and it seemed that he had at least some money saved up. 

Once off the plane, he and Jared headed for the hospital, where they were at last able to get some better information on Donna’s condition.

Apparently there had been a seizure, and she had fallen. The coma she was in was the result of a slow bleed inside her brain due to striking her head on the coffee table, and she’d required surgery to relieve it. Now it would just be a matter of seeing what kind of damage had been done once she regained consciousness.

Sitting at Donna’s bedside, watching her sleep was making Jensen crazy. He couldn’t even fathom what the bill for her treatment would be, let alone what he was going to do now that his dream of becoming a dancer was fading away before his exhausted eyes. As the days dragged by, the memories of performing and the exhilaration of the audience applauding faded into a misty memory, and all he could see was his mother’s still frame lying pale and fragile in the hospital bed.

Jared stayed beside Jensen, trying to support him while he fretted, reassuring him, telling him not to sweat the small stuff, that they would be fine together, but when Jensen was dozing, he too wondered what they’d done and how their future would go.

The local press had been clamoring for an interview for several days, but neither of them had bothered to return the calls. Neither of them had stirred from Donna’s side other than to use the shower or eat what Mr. Beaver brought in for them, so they were in a pathetic state when Donna finally opened her eyes.

“Jensen?”

Jensen was dozing, but the sound of her voice caused him to blink awake. Jared was in the bathroom showering and making himself as presentable as possible for the day’s vigil, so Jensen greeted his mother alone for a moment.

“God, momma, don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said, pushing the buzzer for the nurse. He looked like a mental patient, four day’s growth of scruff, bloodshot eyes and wild hair, and wondered if his mom had called his name because he was unrecognizable.

“Sorry, baby,” she murmured, and then the nurses and doctor descended on her, and Jensen found himself excluded from further proceedings while they checked her over and sent her for tests.

“She’s going to be gone for most of the day doing tests and making sure all is well,” said the nurse who finally took pity on his woebegone state. “Why don’t you two boys go home and get a few hours real sleep while we make her glamorous for you?”

Reluctantly agreeing to go home for a short while, the two of them made their way back to Jensen’s home, where they found that Mrs. Beaver had been keeping the place clean and tidy for them. There was an inordinate amount of mail, and it had all been heaped on the kitchen table for them, at first in a pile and then in several boxes. Jensen gazed at it, frowning, then turned away to go back to the sitting room where he could feel closer to his mother. Mack was at school, and all was quiet. Jensen slumped onto the couch and gazed up at Jared. “You could do so much better than this,” he whispered. “So much better than me.”

“Not really.” Jared dropped to his knees and pulled Jensen into his arms. “You and me together, Jen. We’re it. I’m never gonna let you go, and we’re so much better together. You know that.”

“I’m gonna be in jail for non-payment of debt before much longer. You gonna want a jailbird for a boyfriend?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am!” Jared smiled against his neck. “Besides, I have money. You won’t go to jail.”

“That’s yours, not mine,” protested Jensen. “Besides which, nobody has that kind of money. It’s just not possible.”

“It’s yours, babe. Anything I have is yours.” Jared kissed him hard, and kept kissing him until Jensen stopped fussing and returned the kiss, which turned into a yawn. “Okay. Bed. Sleep while we can, and then we’ll order in something before we go back to the hospital.”

Five hours later, the two were woken by someone leaning on the doorbell. Jensen merely moaned softly in his sleep, and it was Jared who eventually climbed out of the bed, pulled on his jeans and stumbled down the stairs to find out who was disturbing the first good sleep they’d had in days.

What he found on the front porch made him stumble back, eyes wide.

“Well, don’t keep us hanging around outside. It’s hot out here,” said Mark Sheppard, with a grin that Jared would later describe as evil.

“Sorry.” Jared stepped aside and allowed Mark to enter. He was followed by Julian Richings, who gave him a brief smile as he passed him by. “Jensen’s sleeping. I’ll just...”

Turning, he ran up the stairs. “Jen. Jen, wake up. We’ve got visitors.”

Jensen opened gummy eyes and blinked at him. “Jay? What...?”

“You need to come downstairs. We’ve got visitors,” he said again.

It was some half hour later before Jensen finally made his appearance downstairs, still half asleep and very confused indeed. Stopping at the living room door, he stared at his two visitors, a frown on his brow.

“Ah. The other half of the terrible twins,” murmured Mark. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of putting the coffee on, since you guys didn’t seem to have it together.”

“Coffee?” Jensen turned and made for the kitchen to reach for the carafe with shaky hands. 

Mark followed him in. “Look, go and sit down before you fall down,” he said. “I’ll be mum for once.” Swiftly assembling a tray with the required items, he followed Jensen into the living room and placed the tray on the coffee table. Pouring out a mug for Jensen, he held it out and smirked when Jensen immediately buried his nose in the fragrant brew.

Serving Jared and Julian at a much more leisurely pace, he sat back and gestured for Julian to take the conversation.

“I don’t know how much you two have been following what’s happened with the show?” Julian gave them a toothy grin. “But when we lost our two star dancers right before the final, we put a special together to kind of explain where you were and why you wouldn't be dancing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a reaction to one of our shows before,” said Mark, sitting forward. “It was amazing. Jensen, a GoFundMe account was set up to pay your mom’s hospital bills, and you wouldn’t believe the amount of money that’s already been collected. Both of you, fair warning, you’re going to need to sign up with an agent, or you’ll get screwed over big time. You’ve got offers coming out the yin-yang.”

“Offers for what?” Jared was somewhat more alert than his partner. 

“Movies, for a start,” said Julian. “However, what we’d like to propose, if you’ll let us, is this: the finale is going on tonight, and if I’m right...”

“And he always is,” cut in Mark.

“And I always am,” grinned Julian. “If I’m right, your friend Brock is going to win. He’s good, but nothing remotely comparable to the two of you. Anyway, we’d like you to do a demo piece together on the results show, and then I want you to sign with me to develop a series of fusion dance styles merging street and ballet. You should get that manager first, of course, but the way I see it, it’ll be a stage show in Vegas, with possibly a TV and movie spinoff. Bearing in mind that I’m jumping the gun here before Pellegrino gets his ugly mitts on you for one of his Broadway shows, what do you say?”

“Guh,” said Jensen.

“Together?” That was Jared. 

“Absolutely together. You have no idea how incredible audience response has been.” Mark gave a short laugh. “We interviewed the others about you, showed a montage of your dances on the show, broadcast it as a special. Now every PA in the place is hiding from the press until we’ve got something to tell them. We’ve had to employ security above and beyond to keep the place from being inundated when the final goes out. If you two can be there on stage for the results show next week, we’ll be certain of the best ratings ever.”

Jensen looked at Jared, eyebrows raised. Jared nodded to him, and then Jensen said, “As long as my mom’s out of danger by then, I think we’d love to.”

“And this year’s winner of ‘Born to Dance’ is...” Alaina was in her element on the stage, with Brock on her right hand side and Katharine on her left. “Brock Kelly!”

As the audience applauded, Brock stepped forward, gesturing for calm, and Katharine, her arms full of flowers, followed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we all know that I didn’t really win this contest. The ones that should’ve been up here on the stage couldn’t compete, due to personal reasons we’ve all heard about by now. However, they did agree to be here tonight, and so, dancing for you one last time, let me introduce the two who were really ‘Born to Dance,’ Jared and Jensen.”

The stage was darkened, and as ‘He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother’ began, a single spotlight showed a man collapsed on the stage in a heap. As he stirred, a second figure, dressed all in white, made its delicate way to the first, and Jared could be seen stooping to raise up his partner who joined him to perform a pas de deux that had the audience screaming for more. The scene changed, and this time, Jared was failing, while Jensen wrapped his lover’s arms around him like a cloak and danced out his support and his love.

As they slowly came into each other's arms to finish their dance, the audience exploded, and as the show ended, there was no doubt in anybody’s mind exactly who it was that had been ‘Born To Dance.’

**Author's Note:**

> Every year for the longest time now, [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[**wendy**](http://wendy.livejournal.com/) has patiently organized the J2 Big Bang challenge, and it's been our favorite challenge ever. It's forced us to write, when we're both incredibly lazy. It's introduced us to the most amazing artists, and ensured that we have high quality stories to read all through the summer. It must be a logistical nightmare to round up all the talent and make sure that everything runs smoothly. All praise to [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wendy.livejournal.com/)**wendy** for her efforts. Long may she continue!
> 
> We hadn't known of [](http://eprimacol.livejournal.com/profile)[**eprimacol**](http://eprimacol.livejournal.com/) 's artwork before she chose our story to illustrate, and it was with mounting excitement we watched as she produced panel after panel of the most gorgeous artwork. We are so grateful she chose us. Please go look at her work. She not only produced great beauty, she encapsulated the boys' characters in each of her panels. Thank you [](http://eprimacol.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://eprimacol.livejournal.com/)**eprimacol**.
> 
> Our two beta readers, [](http://framedhim.livejournal.com/profile)[**framedhim**](http://framedhim.livejournal.com/) and [](http://aire_blair.livejournal.com/profile)[**aire_blair**](http://aire_blair.livejournal.com/) , were both superbly generous with their time and gave us the most incredible help in every way imaginable. This story would have been a mess of inconsistencies and run-on sentences without their help. We owe them bigtime. [](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/profile)[**candygramme**](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/) offers her firstborn to whichever one of you would like him. He does eat a lot though. [](http://spoonlessone.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spoonlessone.livejournal.com/)**spoonlessone** is happy to offer her firstborn as well, but she's not sure what you'd want him for. If not, you'll have to make do with our undying gratitude.


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